Ever Afters
by Tinkabelle21
Summary: Sequel To Making of Jack Sparrow. Our favourite four are all divided and alone. Jack's stranded friendless in the bar's of tortugua, Ana-Maria's betrayed him and Wills out for his blood. Why?
1. A Port in a Storm

Everyone seems to be angry with Jack. Ana-Maria's run off with the Pearl and Will's out for Jack's blood.. Why?  
  
Thanks to all who read the these stories, it's what makes sitting up till two in the morning when I can't sleep and my fingers itch all the worthwhile.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did, I would parade Jack around the streets proudly and shower him painfully in gold.  
  
I seem to be having some difficulties uploading, so bear with me.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * The bar was dank, the patrons sweltering in the heat. The barmaid, a small red head with bony wiry arms, carried huge tankards of grog to tables full of loud, drunk pirates. It was midday; the sun shining through the dirty windows, and the hum of the bustle of the street outside could be heard behind the voices.  
  
A hand snaked out, grabbing the barmaid's arm as she tried to get back behind the bar. The figure was slumped, his head pressed against the wood, his face contorted as though he was trying to listen to something. His hand rested on an empty shot glass. Five more empty shot glasses were clustered round his head. His red scarf, tied around deadlocked hair, was dirtier then it had been in years, his beard scruffy and unkempt.  
  
"Give me another," Jack Sparrow rasped with a sigh. The barmaid gave him a look of disgust and nodded. Three months, in and out of bars and brothels, Jack had steadily drank away the small amount of money he'd managed to pickpocket. He needed a shower, well he'd always needed a shower, but he was starting to feel disgusting, like one of those rum- soddened bums on the street that everyone steps around pretending they can't see him.  
  
Two sailors came in, ignoring Jack's slumped figure, seating themselves on the barstools next to him. They slammed their gold down on the table, gesturing their orders to the barmaid, and then spoke in low, conspiring voices.  
  
"I heard she's to hang." One of them said, his voice oddly melodic in the crude backdrop of the bar. "Apparently she got court on the outskirts of some navy ridden town, and their gunna hang her."  
  
"Good bloody riddens. Hang em all. Fat lot of good they do ya." Jack murmured to his shot glass. No one was listening to him, and he frowned at his empty glass gloomily.  
  
"Then captain of the Ivory Grip?" The other one scoffed. "Not bloody likely. Heard that crew's the finest and most dangerous crew on the Caribbean. Heard their cursed, and that they don't leave a sole alive, slitting throats in order to quench their Captain's bloodlust."  
  
"Female captain can't be that hard to kill." The other one said disbelievingly. Jack raised his head, and turned, lifting his hands as he winced from the movement.  
  
"Ah well, then you don't know our Captain Ana-Maria."  
  
"Oh, and you do, do ya?" The first man said, nudging his friend. "Come on, old man, tell us about the plucky wench?"  
  
"I ah.." He broke off. "I don't want to talk about it." The two men laughed.  
  
"Buy a beer for our friend here," The second one called to the barmaid. "See if it loosens his tongue."  
  
"Her ship, the Ivory Grip, I heard, well, there's a rumour that it's not a new ship at all, for all its speed and victories." The second man said in a low voice, and glanced from one man to the other. "I heard it's the infamous Black Pearl, under a new Captain and new name. That it's black are the very same that bore Barbossa and his hell riddened crew for ten years."  
  
Jack frowned, his face dropping into a nasty scowl.  
  
"Bloody bitch. Takes my ship, and renames it. The Ivory Grip, what the hell kind of a name is that? Bloody soddening bitch." He spluttered. The two men laughed at him.  
  
"Hey, fella, think you had a bit to much to drink." They said. "Why don't you tell us all about this bitch?" The second man said, humouring him. Then had all day, they weren't due at the docks till sundown. "What did she do? And more interestingly," He said with a grin. "Why'd she do it?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * "Jack?" Someone whispered. Jack was sprawled on his bed, a black blanket crumpled in the corner and a bottle of rum resting on the pillow where it had fallen out of his hand. It was three months previous, the middle of a heat wave.  
  
"What?" He growled, snapping open his eyes. He blinked in the darkness of the cabin, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The hazy feel that accompanied drink was not good when mixed with a rocking boat. His room sunk of liquor, the sheets splotched with it. A small grate that served as a window was covered in smashed glass, as it seemed throwing empty rum bottles out of the window was his way of disposing of them. The fragments glinted under the candle light.  
  
He blinked again, trying to figure out why Ana-Maria was pointing a musket at him. And why there were three other pirates standing behind her grinning. He pulled a face, burying his head in the pillow.  
  
"No, bugger off." He said grumpily.  
  
"Jack, get the fuck out of bed." Ana-Maria said coolly, poking him with her sword. Jack swung his legs over the edge with a disgruntled sigh. He looked up at Ana-Maria and waved his arms in a surrendering way.  
  
"Captain Jack, when we're in mixed company, Ana-Maria." He said charmingly, and got to his feet, stretching his arms. "What's this, luv?" He said with a pained expression.  
  
"This, my dear Captain Jack Sparrow, is payback." She said, drawing out a pair of handcuffs. She twisted them in her hands, smiling briskly. The pirates behind her leered at Jack. Jack pulled a face.  
  
"Well, this hows I see it." He said, and made a dart for his sword. Ana-Maria watched him with a bored air. She pulled her gun out of her belt, pointing that at him too. He dropped the sword and frowned.  
  
"Mate, it's not my day." He said, as she slapped the shackles around his wrist.  
  
"Really honey, I hadn't noticed." The black girl said sarcastically. She gave him a slow lingering kiss on the cheek. "Toss him overboard. Don't think Sparrows can swim, specially not if they've got their wings shackled together. What do you think Jack?" She asked, with her back to him. She was perusing his maps carefully, grimacing at the stains on them from the rum.  
  
"Shackles?" Jack said. "What about a nice beach, with a pistol?" Ana- Maria turned around laughing. Jack saw something glinting at her neck. A medallion, it's scull and cross dangerously familiar.  
  
"You took a piece." He murmured but she didn't hear him.  
  
"We're not all fools Jack. Though it's tempting to see if third times a charm, whether it would actually kill you, but I'm not taking any chances." She paused. "I'm taking everything else, your ship, your cabin, your rum," She said grinning, sipping slowly. "But not chances, Jack."  
  
She paused, and picked up his hat, flipping it in her hands. "You won't need this anymore right?" She said.  
  
"Guess not." Jack said slowly. "I always liked you." He said hopefully.  
  
"Funny, not really caring right now." She said, and ushered the guards to take him away. Jack looked up at the hunkering pirates, all about half a head taller then him, and sighed.  
  
"Mate, it's really not my day." He said to himself. "Never piss a woman off."  
  
Jack got on deck, his eyes filled with loathing. He stumbled against on of his captors, his fingers searching for a key in his pocket, but found nothing. He glanced up at the moonlight night, wondering absurdly if it was cloudy overhead. Or it tomorrow would be the beautiful day he'd wanted it to be.  
  
So this is it, he thought gloomily. Don't see any bloody way out of this one. He reached the plank, still trying to think of a plan, when he heard footsteps running up behind him.  
  
"Elizabeth!" Jack said, alarmed. He glanced at the pirates behind him, but they didn't seem surprised to see the lithe blonde girl. His eyes widened.  
  
"Ana-Maria's got a."  
  
"I know." Elizabeth said, quickly.  
  
"You're in on this?" He asked disbelievingly. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around the pirate, tears on her face. Her blonde hair was pulled flat across her head, her clothes bedraggled.  
  
"Sorry Jack." She slipped something in Jack's hand that felt very much like a key, and squeezed Jack tighter.  
  
"Couldn't bear to see ya sink." She said. "Don't come back for the Pearl this time, she's lost. We're all lost." She whispered, and shoved Jack onto the plank.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"So Ana-Maria tossed me off my ship, and I made my unhappy way back here, to the bars and brothels of beautiful Tortugua." Jack said with an gloomy grin. The man known as Victor gave Jack his hand.  
  
"It's an honour to meet you Captain Jack Sparrow. After all the things I've heard you do..." He looked to his friend. "Hey tell us about the sea turtles. Jack waved his hands dismissively, nearly at the bottom of his beer.  
  
"Okay then, tell us what you did to piss the girl of so much?" Chris, the other pirate asked. He grinned at Jack, wiping his greasy hands on his green shirt. "Come on, we'll buy you a meal."  
  
"Sadly, fellas," Jack said theatrically. "I'm going to have to decline. Got to see a lady about a tear in her skirt." He said with a wink.  
  
Jack got up, downing his shots, and turned around to stride out of the joint with his dignity still intact. But he stopped, having come face to face with a sword. He looked down at it perplexed. Then he looked up at the sword barer, and grimaced. He sat back down on the barstool, patting his pockets for a smoke. Bloody hell he was going to need one.  
  
"Ah, Will." He said. "Charming to run into you." Will didn't put the sword away; the green feather in his had blowing slightly under the breeze. He looked, unlike any of the other pirates, like he only had two layers of dirt on him. Will's hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail. However, his mouth was set in a hard thin line, and he scowled at Jack.  
  
"I've been looking for you, Jack Sparrow. You've got a lot of explaining to do." Jack didn't bother to correct him. He raised his hands half defensively above his chest, producing his best grin.  
  
"Ah, see about that."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	2. Forming Scars

* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It would be easy to say that what happened because of what Jack did, one warm night in Port Royal. Or maybe it would be easy to blame the lure of the Cortez gold. Or blame Ana-Maria for restarting the curse.  
  
But really, it began further back then that.  
  
Three months before Ana-Maria kindly relieved Jack of his duties as Captain, things were very different.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
Jack lay in his berth on the Pearl six months before that day in the bar with Will, his eyes watching the silhouette of Ana-Maria against the candlelight. She was wearing a white slip, her feet bare, with gold bangles dripping from her wrist. She picked up the treasures that lay strewn around Jack's room, trying on his crowns, his rings and sigils, his necklaces with ornate pendants.  
  
He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her hand moved up to stroke the side of his face. Her other finger ran a trail along the row of books, beautiful old-fashioned books with golden written titles.  
  
"My little pirate wench," He said lowly in her ear. "Who gave you permission to touch Captain Jack Sparrow's things?" She smiled. Jack was the king of dirty talk; his brain seemed to link everyone and every subject to sex somehow. It was actually quiet remarkable. "Well, actually I did give you permission to touch on of my things."  
  
He continued, his hands working up her thighs, pushing the white silk up, it crumpling around his hand. His hands slid further, resting on the thin slice of puckering scar there that stretched from one side of her back to the other, just at the base of the spine.  
  
Her hands wiped behind her, grabbing Jack's hands.  
  
"Don't." She said quickly. Jack grabbed her hands, removing them from her back in one fluid gesture, and with one hand pinning hers behind her back.  
  
"Don't what?" He growled. His other hand was drawn to the white oleander tattoo her left shoulder, trailing the pattern white petals, his attention drawn by the contrast of the white next to the cocoa brown. His finger continued, trailing the blue vine down that connected to the flower, to the edge of her slip. He kissed her there, her hands still behind her back.  
  
"Come on luv," He said, his tongue on her neck "I want to see it all. Have a good look." She spun around, her smile intact but seeming a bit forced.  
  
"Come back to bed," She whispered enticingly.  
  
"No," He said, grabbing her hands again in one hand, his other moving to rest just above her breast, feeling the rise and fall of her breathe. "Here, in the light." He ordered. She gave him a funny look, and then tried to brush him off, trying to push past him. He held her hands tight.  
  
"Stop playing around Jack." She snapped, shaking her hand free. He released her with a flourish.  
  
"Ana-Maria." He said sternly. "I want to see the tattoo I paid for." She scowled.  
  
"You've seen it." She said quickly, brushing past him, reaching for the bottle on the table. He listened to her breathing, the hostility radiating off her. He tried again, coming up behind her, resting his hand on the small of her back again.  
  
"This is about this," He said, running his ringed knuckles on the thin material over the scar. "You used to be beg to get naked for me before, I remember those cool nights at the beginning of spring," He crooned in her ear, pulling her hair away from her neck with a predator's skill. "Were we'd swim in the cool lagoon near our hoard, only water touching us, and we'd fuck on the cool stones, and I'd drip water down your spine like this.." He said, running his hand down her spine. She flinched like an animal cornered.  
  
"And now," He spun her round so she was facing him. "What is this? You don't think I'd like you, because of a scar? I'm covered in them. Show me yours and I'll show you mine?" He said persuasively. She placed her hands on his chest, on the gap where his shirt buttons had come undone. She nipped the skin there playfully with her teeth.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, Captain Jack Sparrow," She said lingeringly. Jack let her continue kissing his chest for a moment, frowning down at her, his kohl eyes troubled. Then he grabbed her round her waist, lifting her up and forcing her back onto the table. She gasped.  
  
"Ana, take this damn slip off." He said, his hands pushing the fabric up again. She struggled, slapping his hands away, pushing him off.  
  
"God, Jack. I said no." She said, darting off. Jack stood there, short of breathe for a moment, obviously angry. He pointed a finger at her.  
  
"We got you that god damn tattoo so you'd get over this." She shivered, and Jack softened, taking her in his arms, her forehead resting against his collarbone. "Ana-Maria, don't you know how terrified I was when that Red Coat sliced you? I thought you'd die on the boat; I thought that our botched job of sowing up the wound would surely kill you. I thought you'd never walk again, or worse."  
  
"I know you did." She whispered. She touched his face.  
  
"Why don't you want me to see it? Don't you trust me?" He whispered.  
  
"I trust you with my life Jack." She said seriously, closing her eyes.  
  
"Then what's wrong? Why won't you show me your back? Why are you ashamed?" He asked hotly. She answered by stroking his face, wishing that he could understand what even she couldn't. How that near death experience had changed everything.  
  
"Jack, drop it." She said quietly. Jack's face was passive, but Ana-Maria could feel the stress and the anger through his shallow breathing, through the slightly too tight grip on her hip. She removed his hand from her hip, taking it in her own, and lead him wordlessly back to bed, with no questions answered.  
  
It was though a chasm had formed between them.  
  
Ana-Maria slipped out of his grip some time early in the morning, a terrible sadness evident in her face. She groped around on the floor for her shoes and for her clothes, getting dressed quickly and almost vulnerably. Once dressed, she gave Jack a long affectionate gaze, but he did not wake. She took the empty bottle out of Jack's hand and setting it on the table.  
  
She opened the door, and left the cabin, revelling in the coolness of the night air, and to away from Jack's questioning gaze. She sat on deck till the sun rose two hours later, polishing her sword, her eyes resting on the sea but curiously vacant.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	3. Pull one thread

I should probably just say this is a rough sequel to my other fic, the Making of Jack Sparrow, which isn't finished, which simply means that these characters will follow the same history and way of thinking that they did in my other story. It will probably have no relevance to the plot in any way; just some of the details might be similar. I.e. if Jack's talking about his past or something. Thank you to all my reviewers. Don't sue, I don't own anything.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Elizabeth sat, the knitting needles her father had given her to 'keep her occupied' idle in her lap. She knew she should go out a get the red thread, and start knitting again, as she had during the first few months of her marriage to Will. She knew she should think about what to make for dinner for Will when he came back in a few hours, hot and sweaty from the blacksmith.  
  
She watched the blue waters of the Caribbean listlessly, ignoring the bustle of the maid, and the knock at the door when the postman came. She slipped of her wedding ring, placing it in the palm of her hand.  
  
She tried to feel the same excitement, the same wonder about the small gold band Will had bought her as she did about the medallion she'd stolen of him. The medallion that had caused so much trouble, broken her free of the life, as she knew it.  
  
She tried not to think about pirates, and travelling to exotic countries, and clothes that didn't pull. She tried not to think about the baby, the baby she'd dreamt about, beautiful and sweet, gurgling and jabbering in baby talk, his fat hands always reaching out for her frail figure. She tried not to remember coming into the nursery, the wind from the sea blowing the pale blue curtains of the second story room, and seeing him so still. His eyes glazed over, his chubby arms curled up on his chest.  
  
It had reminded her of a spider. How when they die, their long scary legs shudder and shake, and then are drawn up close to the body as death takes them.  
  
"Is this it?" Elizabeth said, her girlish face livid with disappointment. She wanted Will, wanted him so bad. Wanted to lose herself in his strong arms again, to have his looks of devotion through lowered eyes. She always felt so special, so wonderful when he looked at her. The way he touched her, so lightly, so reverently as though she were the most sacred thing on earth.  
  
But all she could think of was their fight, the previous night.  
  
"Why?" He shouted, keeping his eyes on the polished black kitchen floorboards, trying to keep hold of his rage. She knew she'd been baiting him, knew she was picking a fight, but she couldn't help herself.  
  
"I don't know, Will. I just don't want to go okay?" She started slicing carrots angrily. "I just don't think I can bear another night, sitting with the Commodore and those pompous nobles, talking without really saying anything, where everyone watches that everyone else uses the right bloody fork." She snapped.  
  
She heard will behind her sign. He wrapped his arms around her, taking the knife out of her hand, chopping the carrots neatly, swaying her in his embrace while he did it. Elizabeth closed her eyes, for a second just relishing in the feel of him against her.  
  
"Please come. It's important to my business. No one's going to judging you." He pleaded. Her eyes fogged over. The tears, which were always present at the surface of her eyes spilling over. She knew they would be judging. Calling her a bad mother, a terrible mother who let their infant die. How could she justify herself? She went downstairs for a moment, to heat the milk, and when she came back.  
  
"Fuck you Will." She said harshly, pushing out of his embrace, lifting her skirt so she could run upstairs.  
  
She couldn't explain it to him. Oh, she'd tried, in the first few weeks. And he'd whispered comforting words, saying how they'd have another baby. That these things happened, there was no control over them. He'd brushed her hair, and held her too him, and then gone out to work. Everyone had pitied him.  
  
But she couldn't go out there, with all the stares and the whispers. She'd tried to explain that too, later. Drunken explanations, that Will hadn't understood, and this time, he hadn't tried to.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	4. Early warnings

* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ana-Maria's hair spread out like a fan across Jack Sparrow's chest. Her mocha skin next to his bronzed one shivered slightly under the heat of the day. The sheet lay wrapped around them, pale powder blue and crimpled. Her fingers court on his skin as she touched the hardened muscles around his waist, the trail of hair that lead up to his belly button.  
  
His shirt, casually draped around Ana as though by accident, lay undone at the front. She watched his face, the contours of thought that seemed etched in some unknown language into his skin. If only she could read them. She reached out, tracing his forehead like a brail reader does, her thoughts distant. The heights of passion they had reached earlier seemed far removed now, her face growing distant again.  
  
"I'm going to leave you." She whispered. His eyes refocused on her, his mouth curling down in a slight frown. His hand, which had been stroking her hair, stilled.  
  
"Where are you going?" He asked. Her hand moved from his forehead, as she sat up, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She pulled the shirt closer to her, and then resumed stroking his face. She tugged slight at the jangling bells on the side of his face.  
  
"These look so silly." She said. He grabbed her wrist suddenly, moving to sit up so he stared levelly into her eyes. She quivered slightly.  
  
"Where are you going?" He repeated.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere." She sighed, prying his fingers of her wrist, then resting her hand on his exposed heart. She bent up to bite his lower lip. "But I'm going to leave you." She said, with an inflection on the last word. He paused, his eyes clouding. He looked at her face, a breath from his, and saw the truth in her words.  
  
"Don't." He said quickly. She half smiled, and he traced the curve of his mouth with his lips.  
  
"Why?" He said, feeling his heart sink inside him, a hollowness in his stomach. He closed his eyes for a second to long, in took his breath a second too quick. She saw all these things, and stroked his face, kissing him again.  
  
"I don't know." She murmured against his lips, feeling the vibration of her words flood into him.  
  
"You do know." He contradicted. "You do know, but you don't can't or don't to tell me." He stated. She nodded slightly. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, and find the answer to this problem. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, why she was becoming like this. Why each moment with her was like making a memory.  
  
"When?" He asked instead, his fingers working against the corse fabric of his shirt that she was wearing, pushing it of her shoulders, sliding it down her arms. She leant back against the pillows, pushing her hand through his hair until it resting against the cool of his neck.  
  
"I don't know." She repeated, tilting her head, watching the way he interpreted this. Jack rested his arm by her head, his other on her upper thigh, pushing it up against his waist.  
  
"Are you coming back to me?"  
  
"I don't." She started, but he stopped her, kissing her again. She faltered when he released her, and closed her eyes. She relished in the feel of his skin against hers, in the way she could hear the gulls and waves as backdrop to their lovemaking, the way his eyes could be filled with doubt and arrogance at the same time.  
  
"I don't think so." She said, kissing his cheek, hiding his eyes in her hair. He kissed her earlobe, his cheek against hers, and she couldn't see the pain that contorted his face.  
  
They'd gone out after that, the walls of the ship feeling too close around them. The breathe of Singapore was on their necks. The loose silken clothing of the women there seemed to fill the air with a breathtaking lightness. Scents, sharp and subtle, of herbs and floral perfumes filled the air, mixing with the damp monsoon air. Bright lanterns hung in the darkening streets, and woman watched through shuttered windows at the crew of white and black pirates who left their ship, joining the throng of the Singapore port.  
  
The bars were different, more subdued. Everyone spoke in different languages, half hushed conversations, a million schemes hatched and given life in the bars and brothels of Singapore. And Asian women with painted huge eyes clung and swayed to the music with the pirates on dance floors, their faces revealing nothing.  
  
Jack played cards, flipping them out on the table with a flourish that drew eyes. People crowded around, watching Jack squeeze every last penny out of the Singaporean pimp, whose moustache twitched with hatred. Girls, as if on que, wrapped their arms around Jack's neck. His fingers trailed up their arms while he played, or to the soft flesh of their waists that could be felt through their traditional dress if one pushed hard enough.  
  
Then Jack began losing. His hand's reached for his rum more and more often, his dirt encrusted nails holding on to each card longer and longer. Each time he dropped a card, his face was court with indecision. And his pile of gold slowly drifted away. Finally he stood up, his chair scraping across the floor, and tossed the cards down.  
  
After a silent Japanese bartender, who looked scrupulously ahead while the two girls on Jack's arms preened, settled the tab there was little gain to be said by either party. Jack slapped down his winnings on the table with a grin.  
"I'd say we're square mate." He said, swaying slightly. The girl on his left arm in a pretty red dress smiled at the bartender, her red lips flashing like they were blood coated next to her smooth powdered skin.  
  
Jack made his way onto the lantern street, a geisha on either arm, his face turned into the neck of the tall one on her right. Ana-Maria sat outside and stood up from her game of dice, when she saw Jack. Her white shirt clung against her body. She swept her winnings into a pouch, which she attached to her belt. Jack smiled when he saw her, tilting his head against the soft hair of the Singaporean whores. His fingers rested on the tightly bound bun of bluish black hair. He wanted to remove the pins and run his fingers through the silken Asian's girl's hair.  
  
The geisha in red pressed her lips to Jack's neck, leaving red marks that looked like bite marks, while the other whispered words in Jack's ear that he could not understand.  
  
"He's with me." Ana-Maria said slowly, and then repeated it in a broken foreign tongue while Jack swayed between the two of them. Ana-Maria nodded at the two girls, pressing a few coins into one of the girls hands, and easing Jack's arm onto her own shoulder. The two whores moved soundlessly back into the brothel, as a golden and red firework burst overhead.  
  
The girl with red lips watched pirate wench and her captain made their way down the street, him leaning heavily on Ana-Maria. She saw the way the black girls hand clung to the fabric of his shirt, and the soft way he leant his head against Ana-Maria's.  
  
"Are we home yet?" Jack asked, his eyes resting on Ana-Maria's wearily. His rubbed his hand over his moustache. He then reached down for his flask of rum, leaning heavily on the girl while he drank so that they veered of path.  
  
He looked up at the stars, and thought of other nights spent gazing up at the stars with Ana-Maria. He smiled and remembered on drunken promise to take her to them. In his memory, she had believed him, but in reality she had kissed him and laughed at his foolishness.  
  
"We're nearly home Jack," Ana-Maria said, and closed her eyes.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	5. Past lives

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Jack's new compass and all their cloths in this story. Huh! If it weren't for me they would all be naked.. Oh wait, maybe that could be a good thing. Anyway, Disney owns all.  
  
Thank you for all my reviews, keep them coming and I will send everyone extra cool invisible cupcakes to eat while you read my story. (What do you mean you don't' believe me?)  
  
(JACK FAN2: Your reviews are awesome!! You definitely get a piece of Jack's hat when I buy it of Disney. And don't worry, I have blonde days all the time, which you think would be hard me being a brunette, but it's totally not. Thank you for your reviews, and for the bows hehe. But you should definitely post a fic. Mindless drabble is good, it's what I do! Do it! Just write it, and see where it takes you.)  
  
I was right, when I said this fic would be darker right? It's my thoughts about changes in relationships that have to occur over time. The next update might be a little slow, sorry. Evil study. * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack emerged on deck, a new flash compass in his hand, and a new feather in his hat. Ana-Maria gave him a small nod, before turning back to her job of nailing part of the railing together that had been damaged during the last battle. Gibbs walked over to Jack, his greasy hair sticking to his smiling face.  
  
"Where to captain?" He asked.  
  
Jack paused, consulting his compass momentarily, a silent debate going on in his head. They had riches enough in their hoard, he thought, to keep them rich and prosperous for years to come, thanks to Barbossa's motley crew. Time to take a little holiday.  
  
"To Port Royal." He said slowly, savouring the words. He tilted his head, staring at Ana-Maria. "Got to have a talk to Will." He shook his head. "Tell the crew, Gibbs." He said, clapping the old mans back. He bound up to the wheel, grinning with anticipation.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Not that getting a whole pirate ship into Port Royal is easy, but Jack Sparrow tends to have good winds behind his sails wherever he goes, in all aspects of his life. So it happened that he managed to let his entire crew dock and go for shore leave without much a to-do.  
  
He stepped cautiously down the alley behind Will and Elizabeth's house, running his hand over the earthen yellow walls and the window frames. He halted under a windowsill, peeping his head up through the pot plants to look in on the scene of the house.  
  
Elizabeth was in the kitchen, singing softly to herself, mixing dough in a wooden bowl. Her hair was half undone, spilling down her back, and she was dressed in her night cloths. Her thrown on dressing gown was dangerously open, revealing the soft pinkish skin underneath.  
  
Jack Sparrow grinned. Elizabeth turned, as if on que, and saw his grinning face at the window. She shrieked, the bowl flying up in the air, its contents spilling all over her. Jack pulled himself up on the window ledge, knocking a flowerpot into the kitchen and tumbled into the room after it.  
  
Elizabeth leant against the stove, her hand on her heart.  
  
"Jack!" She gasped dramatically.  
  
"I'm sorry lass if I gave you a bit of a fright." He said with an elaborate hand flourish. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, bending to pick up the bowl and spoon. "Just thought I'd pay a bit of a visit to Port Royal, and have a word with the two of ya."  
  
"That's alright, Jack." Elizabeth said, wiping the flour and dough of her face. "You just scared me, is all. You should have warned us you were coming." Jack shook his head disagreeing. He leant forward, and pulled at a clump of dough that rested near her cheek. She leant into his hand almost automatically, and a flash of confusion past in Jack's eyes. Then he pulled the dough off her face, and stuck it into his mouth, his fingers pushing two far in to his mouth be refined.  
  
"If I'd warned ya," He said, turning to the look around the kitchen. He started opening draws and cupboards. "If I'd warn ya, you'd have worried about Norrington finding me out, and you two would have gone to so much trouble that Norrington would have known I was coming two weeks before I did." He said, licking his lips at the remained dough.  
  
He looked around wildly, pulling out the pots and pans, reaching for the back of the cupboard, but came up empty. He ran his hand over the top of the pantry, his face wracked with concentration.  
  
"Jack! Jack, stop." She said, grabbing his hands, and stopping his search. "What are you looking for? If it's rum, we've got none in the house." She said sternly.  
  
"Well, ain't that a shame?" Jack replied, flashing her his yellowing teeth. He pushed himself up on the kitchen counter, while Elizabeth busied herself with remaking the mixture of whatever she had been cooking. "I was actually looking for the cookie jar." He said finally.  
  
"The cookie jar?" Elizabeth asked, spinning around. "What do you want with the cookie jar?"  
  
"What do all men want with the cookie jar?" Jack said, lowering his eyebrows and leering at her. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the suggestiveness of his manner. "A cookie." He finished simply, bored, gazing around the kitchen. Elizabeth snorted.  
  
She didn't know if he was joking or if he was serious. She reached up on tipy toes to pull the cookie jar out of the cupboard, even though she was tall, it was the only place where Will wouldn't find it.  
  
"So where is he?" Jack said finally. Elizabeth passed him a cookie and gave him a quizzical look.  
  
"Who? Will? He'd at the blacksmiths, where he works." Jack waved a hand.  
  
"No, the little one. The baby. Will said you were eight months pregnant in his last letter, so where is the little on? Unless your still pregnant." He gave her a suspicious look. "Unlikely but.." He paused. Elizabeth wiped her hands on her green dress.  
  
"Um, Jack," She started, but Jack wasn't listening he cut her off.  
  
"I know, you wanted to apologise for not naming him after me." He grinned. "I suppose he's upstairs sleeping. No need to wake him." He said, popping the last bite of the cookie in his mouth. He wiped his hands down his pants. "Now what'd you say about that rum?" He asked. Elizabeth forced a smile.  
  
"Here," She said, pulling a bottle out which was hidden behind the pots and pans. She poured a small bit of vodka into the bottom of her wine glasses. Jack picked his up grimacing.  
  
"Never loved the clear stuff." He grimaced. He clinked glasses with her. "What shall we drink to?" He asked, licking his lips with anticipation. Elizabeth paused, looking a little sad. She watched the swirling clear liquid and shrugged.  
  
"To clear skies," She said.  
  
"Aye, and smooth sailing." Jack finished, and skulled the vodka with a theatrical tilt of the head. Elizabeth followed suit, gulping hers more gracefully and grimacing at the burn of the warm fluid down her throat.  
  
Outside, the gulls circled overhead, their greedy eyes watching the town with a growing disinterest. Their calls could be heard through the little house, and the wind carried a smell of salt and of the blissfully cool water.  
  
"Right luv, where's the bathroom?" Jack said politely, kicking his heels on the kitchen bench. Elizabeth covered her mouth, still dealing with the aftermath of the vodka, and pointed towards the bathroom.  
  
Jack ran his hands over his face, casting on last look at the blonde haired beauty in the kitchen. He shook his head sadly, and pushed open the bathroom door. He whistled lowly through his teeth. This place was like a palace. White towels and a huge marble bath with the water spurting out of a little fish head. Jack poked the fish head suspiciously, and then turned his attention to his reflection.  
  
Three years had passed since he'd reclaimed the pearl. Three years where they'd prospered and plundered. What was that saying? They'd taken all they could and given nothing back.  
  
For so long, all he thought he'd ever need was rum, gold and wenches. Now, he wasn't so sure. He was older, that's for sure, though the change was not apparent on his skin, or in his movement. But was in his eye, and in his heart.  
  
Now, there were other important things to him. Like Will, and Elizabeth, and their trust. The love of his crew around him, the det he owed them for saving his life. Blood and death were also on his mind of late. He'd seen the way Barbossa had almost relished his death, the glint of satisfaction in those eyes. How long till every pirate pushes it that one step too far, succumbs to their curiosity? It's said that ever pirate has a death wish, and Jack was worried about when that would come true.  
  
They also say that worry comes hand in hand with love, of all kinds.  
  
There was the Pearl, always the Pearl.  
  
Maybe it had started with her, this change in his priorities. His beautiful sculpted ship and the way she rode up and down on the waves. The way he could place his hand on her beautiful helm, his fingers curled around her protectively, the way her hair fluttered backwards as she rose above his, her lips slightly parted, her black skin flushed..  
  
"Oh bloody hell." Jack muttered. "Bloody wench." He shook his head wearily at himself. He ran his hands under the water, running his wet fingers down his beard and smoothing stray hairs back behind his ear. Then he froze, as he heard voices from the kitchen.  
  
"Elizabeth, I really must protest, you sit here all day like the lights gone out in your world with not a care for your young husband..." Jack pressed his ear to the patterned glass door of the bathroom, contorting his face with concentration.  
  
"Father, I don't want to talk about this.." Elizabeth said sternly, in a voice that made it clear she'd had this argument with her father before. Jack pulled a face.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to talk about it." Jack mimicked. "Bloody woman. If you don't want to talk about it bloody well stop moaning!" He barked angrily, and then started, realising his position. He pulled an apologetic face, remembering he was in Elizabeth's bathroom, and technically there was a tiny, little, itsy bitsy price on his head.  
  
"Elizabeth is there someone in your bathroom?" Governor Swann asked. Elizabeth's eyes darted furtively. Her father raised his eyebrows so that they disappeared inside his wig. He strode over to pull open the bathroom door with Elizabeth on his heels.  
  
"No, father, of course I don't have someone in the bathroom, are you joking?" Elizabeth said quickly, pressing her back to the door. Her father pulled a stern face.  
  
"Step away from the door."  
  
"Father, I'm not a child.."  
  
"Elizabeth." He said, and she responded, almost childishly, stepping away from the door. The governor pulled open the door, and peering into the bathroom. Elizabeth followed suite. There was no one there.  
  
"What was all that about, darling?" Elizabeth's father asked her, shaking her shoulders slightly. He put his arm around his frail daughter, leading her back to the kitchen, feeling rather affectionate towards the girl. "Thought you might be hiding pirates in there.." He joked, and Elizabeth smiled faintly.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	6. Cracks

* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack Sparrow climbed out of the flowerbed; tutting at the dirt on his newly polished shoes. He spat on one of them, wiping it against the wall. Trust Will to care for his garden and use plenty of manure. Jack glanced regretfully at the bathroom window. Last time he'd see a bathroom like that.  
  
He put his hands in his pockets, and whistled through his teeth. The sun was shining overhead, and he'd just narrowly escaped the governor. Things were starting to become fun again. It was always like this, with Will and Lizzie. Things just seemed to happen when you were around them. Jack grinned, kicking a stone along the road with his shoe.  
  
He was so absorbed by his thoughts, that he barely noticed Ana-Maria walking up the street towards him, her face radiating a warning. Her simple white skirt and top, intended for her to look like a slave, flapped against her thighs, and fell off her shoulder slightly. However, if one looked closely enough, you could see the belt around her waist half covered by the cheap material, where her gun nestled. Jack had no doubt that her little emerald dagger was lodged firmly inside her boot in case of a tight spot.  
  
She made a gesture to the crowd behind her, walking very steadily up the slope towards him. Jack followed her advice, turning a one eighty on his heel and then turning of into one of the side streets, where the clothes lines and soot lay thick overhead.  
  
Ana-Maria joined him a second later, nearly running into him in her haste. Jack grabbed her by the upper arm, thrilled slightly by the coolness of her flesh. They walked slightly through the little alley until they reached a low wall, with a view of the hills and, if you craned your neck, the beautiful harbour.  
  
Jack holstered himself up on the wall, lightly a cigarette, while Ana-Maria leant against the walls of one of the shanties, catching her breath. She snapped the cigarette out of his hand, stopping it derisively under her boot.  
  
"That bullshit will kill ya." She said, pointing her finger at him. Jack leant back on his hands and laughed. Ana-Maria responded to this with a dirty look, still slightly puffed. "Bloody redcoats," She swore, and spat on the ground. Jack grinned again, tilting his hat to shield the rays of the sun. "Did you find Elizabeth and the boy?" Ana-Maria asked with disinterest.  
  
To Ana-Maria, Elizabeth and Will were simply like a painting, beautiful and sometimes intoxicating so that they drew you back again and again, but not substantial. Their love was too easy, without any grit or dirt that went with living. It was not the way Ana-Maria chose to live.  
  
Jack Sparrow eyed the black girl curiously.  
  
"Did you mean it?" He spat over the wall and grimaced at the taste left in his mouth.  
  
"Mean what, Jack?" She said aggressively, wiping her smouldered fingertips on her white dress, leaving black trails on it as though her very skin was rubbing onto the fabric. The sun was too hot, and she'd forgotten her hat.  
  
"Anything you say these days." Jack said, picking cookie out of his teeth. He saw the indignant look on her face, and waved it away with a dismissing gesture. "Forget it." Ana-Maria jutted out her chin, shaking her head slightly. The wind blew the sheets on the line, the cool air a welcome from the stifling heat of the day. She turned, as though to leave. There was no dealing with Jack when he was in his philosophical moods, she thought grumpily.  
  
"No, wait, I want to know." Jack said suddenly. "Did you mean it when you said your were going to leave me? Or was it just to get a reaction?" It had been a month since that night in Singapore. A month, were she hadn't mentioned leaving him again, had shared his bed and his company as usual. And Jack had devoured each moment, terrified that she was suddenly going to slip out of his grasp forever.  
  
But she hadn't, and the death sentence she'd lain on their relationship hung uneasily overhead.  
  
"One of us is going to leave eventually Jack." She said finally, looking down at her bitten nails. She scratched her back self-consciously. "One day, one of us will die or give up this life for some other dream. Everyone dies Jack, everyone moves on." She said abstractly.  
  
She bit her lip, biting back one last comment, and looked up to see how Jack had taken this. He had closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the side of on of the houses, relaxing completely in his dangerous perch on the wall.  
  
"What the hell has that to do with anything, Ana-Maria? You're making up excuses." He snapped open his eyes. He pointed a finger at her. "This is about that stupid cut on your back again. It's got you running scared of death. That's what the root of this is." Ana-Maria cut of his rant, trembling slightly as she spoke. She felt like pushing him off the bloody wall, but knowing him he'd just survive it and come back and annoy her some more.  
  
"If your not even going to try to understand." She said with a shake of her head. Jack jumped of the wall, seeing how upset she was, taking his hands in his and kissing her forehead gently.  
  
"I'm trying love." He said, and pulled his arms around her. Ana-Maria rested her head against his chest, while Jack tried to think of the right words. But there were none.  
  
"Look, I never meant to hurt you, but I feel like I have somehow." He licked his lips, pushing her slightly against the wall so he could see into her face. The compassion that resonated through all his features almost make Ana-Maria break, and she suddenly felt so sick. "I'm sorry about all the things I've..."  
  
She shoved him in the chest violently, and glared at him. He stumbled backwards, taken by surprise. He rubbed his hand on his chest, confusion evident in his expression.  
  
"God Jack," She said, looking away from him. "Fuck you Captain Jack Sparrow. This has got nothing to do with you. For once in the goddamn world, not everything is related to you." She spat out maliciously, her fists clenched. "This isn't about your stupid ship, or your bloody treasure, or the million other ways you make everything about you. This is about me. How can I try to explain anything to you, when you don't even understand that?" She said angrily, and strode past him, pushing through the washing lines.  
  
"Do you still love me?" He called out after her.  
  
About half way down the street by then she spun around, and shrugged.  
  
"Yeah, you know I do. But that doesn't change anything." She said. Jack nodded, and watched the brilliantly falling sunbeams.  
  
He didn't understand her. He didn't understand what was wrong with her. He whistled lowly under his breath.  
  
"Bloody women." He said, and made off towards the town, to find the one person who might understand.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	7. Commen Sorrow

* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Will bent over the flame, beads of sweat dripping off his hair and down his face. The blade, bright red and a shimmer of metallic liquid, would be his best yet. And more importantly, it would be his.  
  
No more flashy blades for royals who didn't need them and who would never use them. No, this would be his first display of the truly perfect blades he always knew he could make. And it would be his.  
  
He turned his head, as the sign out the front of the blacksmith swayed. The old hammer and forge symbol had been replaced when Will had become the master of the blacksmith. It had the insignia on it was of swan with its neck craned around a sword. A turning swan. Elizabeth had come up with the idea, before they had eloped, when the two of them had been so full of dreams and hopes.  
  
"Now, see here," Will said, nodding towards his apprentice who came forward hesitantly. "Tommy, see how the metal melts at this heat intensity? Well to keep the blade smooth you do this.." Will said, tilting his arm. Will thought dreamily while he made the action of his own children, when him and Elizabeth were ready to try again. He would teach the boy how to make blades and the skills of the fight, and he would tuck his daughter in with stories of William the Pirate, Elizabeth the Heroine, and Captain Jack Sparrow who walked the thin line between good and evil.  
  
Will felt the tip of a blade pressed against the back of his neck and drew a breath. His mocha eyes widened with shock, and then thinned slightly with determination. No one had yet bested him in a fair fight, and no one ever would if he could help it. Will stayed very still, placing the half made weapon on the bench next to the flame without moving his head.  
  
"You look very familiar boy,' A well-known voice drawled, and Will smiled as he felt the slightly rancid breath on the back of his neck. "Have I threatened you before?" Will nodded his head a little with acknowledgement at the greeting, his face lit up with a smile. He darted a look at his apprentice and saw the boy trembling in fear.  
  
"It's alright Tommy, he's a friend." Will said, taking a step forward and spinning around. Jack was grinning, obviously well pleased with his joke. He kept the blade pointed at Will.  
  
"Jack," Will said, beaming, whipping his hands on his apron. Then he darted to one side, grabbing a blade from the weapons table and drew it up next to Jacks, the clanging noise causing young Tommy to clap his hands over his ears.  
  
"Still crossing blades with pirates are you my lad?" Jack said, sparring with Will casually, a mutual grin on both faces. "Hasn't your adventure taught you anything?"  
  
"Only that I still haven't been bested in a fair fight." Will replied, their faces close for a moment while their held their blades in a tight embrace against one another. Jack grinned.  
  
"Don't you remember what I said about fair fights?" Jack said, and kicked Will's legs so that the boy stumbled backwards, tripping over a stool, and crashed to the floor. Will looked up with shock. Jack Sparrow gave him a hand to help him up.  
  
The two men embraced, and then broke apart still grinning. This over display of affection might have been uncharacteristic of Jack usually, but after all he'd been through with the boy, there was no room for embarrassment.  
  
Sparrow clapped his arm around the blacksmith's shoulder.  
  
"Come on, I think it's time for a drink, what do you say?" Jack said enticingly. Will found himself nodding along with the pirate, his face lit up as it had not been for months.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"I mean," Jack started again, gulping slightly with the disorientation caused by his head movements. The bar was dark, the dappled light of the Caribbean sun had nearly disappeared for the day, and only smudged traces of pink and orange were evident on the horizon. "It's not like I don't try, I do, but it's not natural. I try, but sometimes I just can't. Don't understand how you do it." Jack Sparrow finished, taking another shot of whiskey. They were sitting outside on the corner of the veranda outside the bar which ran down to the soft beach and the lapping water.  
  
Will shook his head, casting one guilty look around to see if anyone had was there to see him with the pirate. But there was no one except the barman inside chatting up the few dreary customers bent over their drinks.  
  
"I never wanted anyone else the way I wanted Elizabeth. Not one woman ever tempted me like my Lizzie did." Will said with a shrug. Jack Sparrow looked at him in disbelieve. Will made an indignant face. "What? It's true. I've only ever wanted one woman."  
  
"One woman? Only one woman? Will, you've got to get out a bit in the world. Saying there's only one woman for you is like... its like.." He paused, and looked around for inspiration. "It's like saying there's only one type of alcohol." He raised his whiskey to emphasise his point. "But there's millions mate." He wheezed, shucking it back. "There's all the beautiful different types, all the different concoctions, the tropical ones, the homebrews, rum.." He stroked the bottle of rum in his pocket absent- mindedly, loosing track of his point.  
  
"Jack, I've only ever wanted Elizabeth." Will repeated. Jack shook his head sorrowfully. Will shifted and then fought back. "And what about you, Jack? The rumour on the winds says you're getting pretty close to your first mate, and that the whore houses of Tortugua have been sadly missing you of late." Will said with a grin and a raised eyebrow.  
  
Jack Sparrow pulled a face, and shook his head again.  
  
"See the thing about that is," He raised a finger. "Its not that I don't want to visit the beautiful women of Tortugua anymore, it's just that Ana- Maria..." He broke off. Will laughed.  
  
"She's tamed the wild Captain Sparrow. I would congratulate that woman if I met her." Will said. Jack drew himself up, giving Will an offended look.  
  
"I'm not tamed." Will gave him a disbelieving look. "I'm not." He repeated angrily. Then he shrugged. "Ana-Maria's got a way about her that sends a very clear message about what she'd do if I crossed her. What we have, what we have is an understanding. And she knows that I'm weak sometimes, with or without grog." He said quietly. It was true.  
  
Ana-Maria was the closest thing Jack had to a confident. Even if she didn't understand him always, she knew him.  
  
"Anyway, my point is that I'm still tempted." Jack said triumphantly, now back on track with his argument. "I still want the women, but I just don't take them."  
  
"Well, for me there's only her." Will said simply. "And I've got you to thank for us being together." Jack waved away this compliment.  
  
"Had my own reasons, boy." Sparrow said quickly, and pulled a metal box out of his pocket. He drew out a thin smoke, grinning at the thought of it. He lit a match on the smooth surface of the table; his fingers x-rayed as he sheltered the flame between his hands to keep it alight. He lit the smoke with satisfaction. He passed it to Will, who took it gingerly.  
  
"What is it?" Will said, sniffing the smoke with slight reproach. Jack grinned; putting his feet up on the table and watching the boy's discomfort. He nodded towards Will as he took a puff and then spluttered.  
  
"It's a home brew lad," Jack said simply, trying to hide a grin.  
  
About ten minutes later, Will was giggling like a schoolboy and Jack's eyes had gone a soft wavering brown, his pupils dilated so that they seemed huge in the night sky. Will leant forward, gasping for breath between laughs, pushing the shot glasses away.  
  
"And then I'd make him clean the deck. Love to see Norrington have to do an actual day's work." Will wiped tears from his eyes. "Sometimes, I really wish I was a pirate. It'd be so much fun." Jack grinned agreeably.  
  
"It's the best. No one tells you want to do, no rules, just you and the open water." Will thought about it dreamily for a minute, and then shook his head.  
  
"Could never do it. Elizabeth couldn't live like that, especially now." Will mused sadly. Jack leant forward eagerly.  
  
"Nah, mate. I think you underestimate the little lady. She's a tough one. You two should come on my ship, I'd make you first mate.." Jack said enticingly. "Well, after Ana-Maria. She'd kill me if I gave away her position. Ah, Ana." Jack whispered grinning. Will smiled at the faraway look on Jack's face.  
  
"She's really got you, hasn't she Jack?" Will said smugly.  
  
"It's the hair. I just can't get over how it feels." Jack said with a shrug. "And the skin, oh the her skin." He groaned. "I never felt anything so smooth, it's like molten cocoa or the darkest rum. All I want to do is touch her."  
  
"That's how I felt about Elizabeth," Will said reminiscently. "Wanted to see her perfect hair falling on her naked back. Used to dream about just a touch from her smooth hand."  
  
"And now?" Jack said suggestively. Will shifted, a shadow passing across his face.  
  
"Now, things are different. Since the baby died, Liz hasn't been herself." Will didn't notice Jack start, didn't notice the shock and horror that crossed the pirate's face. This was a surprise to Jack, and it hurt him more then he'd have thought it would. Jack thought back to the sad little blonde girl in the kitchen earlier that day, the way she'd skulled back the vodka. It made sense. Jack nodded grimly.  
  
Will looked up at Jack though worried eyes.  
  
"I don't know what's wrong with her. I don't know how to help her. She won't let me touch her or talk to her about it. It's like she's... the girl I knew, it's like she's gone." Will said. Jack froze; realising how close Will's words were to how Jack felt about Ana-Maria. "I don't expect you to understand." Will said dismissively.  
  
But Jack did. He knew what it was like; occasionally catching those vacant looks from haunted eyes when it was thought that no one was looking. He understood the lack of passion, the stillness that had overcome Elizabeth, which Will mourned, because Jack had mourned it himself when it spread over Ana-Maria like a sickness.  
  
Will fell forward on the table again.  
  
"I don't know what to do Jack. It's like she's broken." Will said in the tone of a small boy with a broken toy, wanting it to be fixed.  
  
Jack let a bitter smile on his lips, and said the words he'd been repeating to himself in the darkest moments.  
  
"Give her time." But the words sounded hollow, and the bleakness of the night swallowed them.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Please R&R 


	8. Variations of Lonliness

Hi, angst chapter here, you know you love it. Um, the song Jack sings (yes, you may have noticed I'm obsessed with putting songs in my fiction, I'm SORRY, but this one is REALLY appropriate) is called The Token. And to my worried reviewers, OF COURSE there's a happy ending. What am I, insane? I love Jack, I just like seeing him jump hoops for me.. Hmmmmmm...That gives me an idea. Hehe. Cookies for all reviewers. Cookies are important. (Pretty good incentive huh!) * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Time does not heal all wounds. It's a myth. The scars of battles remain; the emotional wars fought each day grind down the soul. If your strong, you can rebuild after each storm, you remember those cherished good times and they drive you.  
  
And sometimes, no matter how strong you are, things cannot be rebuilt and the pain lingers, tainting everything it can with its black shadowed fingers so that no happy moment is as bright and clear as it once was.  
  
Ana-Maria kicked her feet against the stones of the battlement, starring down at the town with a vague disappointment. She'd thought it would be prettier, more orderly. But it was not. There was gambling and brothels hidden in Port Royal like anywhere.  
  
Her mind wandered, watching the small figures make there way out of a bar and down onto the beach. Even from the distance and in the growing gloom, she could tell one of them was Jack by the way he walked. She could see the faintest smudge of red, which was his bandana, and the glint of glass in his hand. The other, a giant hat on his head, was obviously Will by the stiff way he walked in the sand, as though fighting against the very texture of the shifting sand.  
  
"Ah, Jack." She whispered, letting the wind catch her words and toss them out to the ocean. She pushed a strand of hair of her face, and allowed herself to smile.  
  
She thought of what Jack meant to her, of how pitifully the words I love you really described the extent of her emotion. And yet she felt herself drawing away from him. He was her captain, her lover, the man who watched her back in battle, someone who could draw her out of some of her darkest moods, her consoler, her comedian, and he'd never failed her. Never truly.  
  
Maybe, she mused, now was the only time he'd ever really failed her.  
  
Because he couldn't understand. Because it was not in his nature to worry about the sands of time, of the future. Her Jack, the man she loved with all her heart, had the gift for happiness. She knew that; and it was one of the things that drew her to him.  
  
He'd never once told her he loved her. Not once.  
  
For the longest time, she'd wondered why. She thought maybe it was because he was afraid of commitment, of obligation, or of what those words might mean for him.  
  
In her darker moments, she thought that maybe he never said it because he didn't love her, that she was just a good fuck for when they'd been too long at sea and there was no other pleasurable company available.  
  
Now, she thought, maybe he'd been wise in not saying it. Not simply because it left him too vulnerable, but because maybe she wouldn't have been able to deal with it.  
And maybe he knew that.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
"I have.." Jack Sparrow started, swaying slightly under Will's weight. He raised a hand, the dappled light falling from the front door way on to it, while the rest of him remained in shadow. Elizabeth stood with her arms folded across her chest, her white nightdress with small pink roses on it looking pure and clean next to Jack's wavering hand. "Bought you husband home little Lizzie." Jack Sparrow said proudly.  
  
He was surprised when Elizabeth's hand connected with his face, and his head spun around with an expression of shock. He rubbed his hand on his jaw, and maybe not so wisely asked.  
  
"Did I deserve that?" He said blearily. Elizabeth was rubbing her hand, a red mark forming on her skin where it had connected with Jack's face. She'd never known slapping people hurt your hand. She'd never slapped anyone before.  
  
"Jack Sparrow," She started sharply.  
  
"Captain, they always forget the Captain," Jack Sparrow mumbled guilty gazing at Elizabeth's bare feet. They looked cold and blue on the wooden floorboards.  
  
"You've filled Will with liquor and go knows what else. He's hours late, and I was so worried. I had to send Martin with the coach to tell my father Will couldn't come for dinner, and, and." She paused, and then shook her finger at Jack. Jack looked at it suspiciously like it was a loaded gun. "You're a bad influence on him Jack. You, you, Pirate." She finished. Jack Sparrow shrugged.  
  
"I've been called worse love." He leered, nearly causing Will to fall over. "But it wasn't exactly like I forced the alcohol down his throat," Elizabeth raised a disbelieving eyebrow.  
  
"For some reason, I wouldn't put that past you." She said with a shake of the head. Jack winced and tried again.  
  
"Now really what is it you have against the finer drinks? Wasn't it you my lovely, who gave me that fine shot of vodka earlier?" He said sneakily. Elizabeth blushed, and her iron resolve broke. Jack continued. "Now, do you want to let us in, or do you want half the neighbour to see you with a devilishly good looking pirate at two in the morning?"  
  
"Oh you." Elizabeth said, quite flustered, helping Jack drag Will into the house.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ana-Maria vaulted herself over the fence of the Turner's house and stumbled slightly on the cobbled courtyard floor. She walked towards the windows, noticing the darkness of the house. No one awake.  
  
She shivered slightly.  
  
"Come on Jack, where are you?" She muttered. After losing sight of him at the beach, she'd looked, discretely, all over town for him. And he'd not been on his ship. She couldn't remember the last time he hadn't stumbled to home before dawn.  
  
"The breeze was fresh, the ship was in stays, Each breaker hush'd, the shore a haze," She heard Jack Sparrow sing. She spun around, seeing him seated with his back against the brick fence, surround by three empty rum bottles. Ana-Maria watched him warily. He beckoned her over. She slumped down next to him, his arm wrapping around her shoulder possessively. He continued to croon, his voice very close to her ear so she could feel each word blow strands of her hair from her ears.  
  
"When Jack, no more on duty call'd, his true love's tokens over haul'd; The broken gold, the braided hair, The tender motto, writ so fair, Upon his 'bacco box he views, Upon his 'bacco box he views," Jack broke off to sip his vodka, and then court up the song again. "If you loves I...." He kissed her neck affectionately. Ana-Maria could feel a trace rum spilling down her neck. "No pair so happy as we two." He murmured, finishing the song.  
  
"Jack," She started. Jack looked at her, as if seeing her truly for the first time. He grimaced, and shook his head. He stood up wearily, and made to walk into the house. "Jack." Ana-Maria repeated angrily, raising herself to her feet.  
  
"What?" He said, spinning around, a doubtful look on his face.  
  
"Come on," She said, tilting her head enticingly. "Come back to the ship with me." Her fingers, resting on her stomach, curled slightly. Jack watched the sight of her with a pleasurable sigh for a moment. Then he shook his head, his drunken movements causing him to nearly fall over as he reached for the door.  
  
"Not tonight, Ana-Maria. Fucking you only makes me feel lonely these days." He said, and stumbled dejectedly into the house, collapsing on the floor in front of the fireplace.  
  
She knew he was drunk, and that's why he said these things.  
  
But it still hurt.  
  
It didn't make it hurt any less knowing that it was true.  
  
She stepped cautiously into the house, covering Jack's sleeping form with the throw from couch. She leant over his face, kissing his forehead tenderly. He shifted, and then his hand snaked out, clasping her wrist. His eyes fluttered open.  
  
"Ana-love." He murmured, and then closed his eyes, releasing her hand as quickly as he snatched it.  
  
The pirate wench stood up, resisting the urge to tidy the stray dreadlocks from his face, and turned to make her weary way back to a ship that would never truly be hers, alone.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	9. Seeing Dreams

Song's "All Apologies" by Nirvana. Don't ask why, it just seemed right for it to be there. Small update, and I know it's been delayed, but I've been lacking inspiration recently, or more to the point the next part (chapter after this which I will post soon) of the story upset me to write. Bad computer, bad.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The wind's dropped, leaving the night clear and silent. The slightest noise was instantly suppressed by the dark sky above, and everyone lay hushed with sleep. The moon hung like a watching eye overhead, a visible crater like a darkening pupil.  
  
Jack dreamt. He fell onto his back on the floorboards of Elizabeth's little house, his closed eyes wincing as if in pain. He raised a hand over his face, and a slight groan escaped his salted lips.  
  
Water swayed around him, distorting the sunrays that fell from the sky so they spiralled down towards him. He vainly swam upwards, knowing that if he didn't he would die. Endless water, endless water, the words repeated over and over in his head. Then the words changed, a beat picked up and he could just words, while the water went black.  
  
"I wish I was like you, easily amused. Find my nest of salt. Ev'ry thing is my fault. I'll take all the blame, aqua seafoam shame. Sunburn with freezer burn. Choking on the ashes of her enemy" Came a heavy voice in Jack's head.  
  
"That's not music," Jack whispered. He felt vaguely sick, and his dream spun changing again.  
  
Jack Sparrow felt the sun heavy over head, and the touch of sand on his feet. All around him, for miles and miles, the immense water. But there was no love he felt for it, only bitter anger and salty tears. Friendless and alone, stranded on this island when a man he had loved like a son, a brother and a mentor had sailed away with his ship. He wanted to slam his fist into the wood of the trees, and yet he felt strangely removed from the scene.  
  
An image of Barbossa's dead and rotting skeleton that they had found on the floor of the Ile de Muerta flashed before Jack's eyes and the dream wavered slightly. Jack raised his hand to his forehead, hearing the familiar sound of beads clicking near his forehead. My hat, he thought idly, trying to connect the thought with something.  
  
He turned, seeing Ana-Maria walked down the beach towards him, the edge of her skirt in one hand, the other resting on his hat that she wore. She laughed, and he wrapped his arm around her, nestling against the warmth of her skin, his hand running along her stomach freely. She giggled, and ran down to the water. Jack watched her from the trees, noticing how her skin seemed almost bleached of colour like fading white wash. She turned towards him, her eyes like two dark pinpricks in the bright light of day.  
  
They walked down the beach together; somehow now arm in arm. Ana-Maria was quiet now.  
  
"Death is never Beautiful." She confided in him, pulling him around her as though for warmth. He looked over her shoulder, where a bright blue bird lay coiled on the sand, its beady eyes gazing up motionlessly at the sun. Jack thought it strange how Ana-Maria recoiled from death, the vulnerability in her eyes.  
  
He was on the verge of waking now.  
  
Jack hand on Ana-Maria's back, and felt the scar breaking open and bleeding again. Ana-Maria nodded, and reached out to touch Jack's cheek.  
  
"Skeletons don't bleed." She said with mild horror, and placed her hands on the bones of Jacks face. He looked down at his body, feeling the skin stripping away painfully, not as it had with the curse before. He looked up at the sun light bewildered, a sharp pain burning him as the mild ocean breeze touched his exposed rib cage.  
  
He fell into a memory of the night where Ana-Maria had nearly died. His fingers locked in her hair; he listened to every breath she took that night, not letting himself sleep unless he missed her last.  
  
Ana-Maria's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him in horror. Jack turned, and caught the reflection of a skeleton in the mirror.  
  
He woke.  
  
"Here." Elizabeth said, nudging him with the toe of her slipper. He sat up startled. He looked bewildered at Elizabeth, and then at the coffee mug, which he accepted thankfully. Elizabeth curled up on the couch, watching him.  
  
"You didn't have to sleep down here." She said reproachfully. "We have a room for guests."  
  
"But I'm not really a guest love," He replied, getting up and stretching, looking into the blinding light of the midday sun. "How's Wills head?" Jack said with a grin. Elizabeth laughed with a shrug.  
  
"Sent him off to work with my mothers recipe for a hangover." She replied happily. Then she paused. Jack was careful not to appear like he was scrutinizing her. He'd never heard Elizabeth talk about her mother before. "She died, before we came out here. Back in England."  
  
"Oh?" Jack said, looking at the bottom of one of Elizabeth's candlesticks, noticing that it was real gold. "What off?" He said and then looked guilty. "Didn't mean to ask you that love, if you'd rather not talk about it." He put the candlestick down hastily.  
  
"No, no, it's okay. It was a long time ago. I barely remember her. She died in child birth, she'd had three miscarriages after me." Elizabeth shrugged as though this were common knowledge. She'd barely even spoken to Will about her mother, except on the off hand comment.  
  
Parents were a touchy subject, with both of them.  
  
Jack spat out the open window and rubbed his hands together. Elizabeth restrained herself from getting up to put a coaster under Jack's coffee, which lay on the dining table.  
  
"Well, my mother was a Mexican whore, and my father was a English lord." Jack said casually, squinting to see if he could see the Pearl in their safe little cove from here. He stood on his tippee toes to get a better look. Elizabeth looked disbelieving.  
  
"I thought your mother was a nun?" Elizabeth countered. Jack tilted his head and looked at her. He looked slightly perplexed but then grinned, lurching forward slightly as he spoke.  
  
"She was a nun and a Mexican whore. Good woman my mother." He took a sip of coffee and added. "Very versatile." Elizabeth shook her head.  
  
"Jack Sparrow.. I'm lost for words."  
  
"Yeah, well, you seemed to have lost the Captain part alright, but seeing as how we're such good friends." He collapsed on the couch beside her, putting his hand on her knee jokingly. She didn't seem to notice, and he frowned. He removed his hand, and continued as nothing had happened. "I'll let you pass with just the Jack Sparrow, but no one else, savvy?"  
  
"Savvy." Elizabeth said, with some of her old mischief.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	10. A Fools Errand

* * * * * * * * * * * * How it happened, even Elizabeth would have trouble describing the exact transition, the gesture or word that started the whole surge of events. Maybe it was when he'd touched her cheek that other morning, wiping away cooking stains from her beautiful face. Or when he'd placed his hand on her knee. Or maybe even earlier then that, back at the very beginning, when he'd wrested her damp form from out of the water, the sight of her and her necklace giving him hope for the first time in years.  
  
But if asked, Jack would simply say it was the sadness in her. He saw her need for comfort.  
  
That he'd been too stupid, and too self indulgent to stop and think that maybe comfort from a pirate was not what a girl like Elizabeth should want.  
  
She should want gold and diamonds and kisses on the hand.  
  
But maybe, just maybe, a tiny bitter part of Jack wanted what Will and Elizabeth had, wanted to experience the life with that type of untouchable, breakable women.  
  
Anyway you look at it, it was selfish.  
  
And in the long run, extremely foolish.  
  
It started so simply.  
  
They were sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by cookies.  
  
With no rum at hand (vodka is just not the same, and Elizabeth was refusing, for the moment, to drink anyway), and neither of the pair wishing to leave the house, especially without Will, they'd done the one thing that was both time consuming and satisfying.  
  
They'd baked cookies.  
  
Well, that's to say, Elizabeth baked cookies, while Jack hovered around, getting in the way. It seemed that no matter how many times she slapped his hands away, he some how always managed to eat some of the dough. And so, she'd just kept baking and making more and more dough.  
  
So now, they were surrounded by cookies and feeling rather foolish. The original idea had been to find the BEST cookie, the roundest and prettiest (because Elizabeth, like me, values cookies based on how pretty they are) one to give to Will.  
  
Unfortunately, every time Elizabeth pointed out a cookie worth giving to Will, Jack would take a bit of it to see if it tasted good. And then they had to find a new best cookie, because, well, Jack had eaten the last one.  
  
It was all very difficult.  
By the twelfth cookie, other then feeling kind of sick, Elizabeth was in hysterics. Jack had found a shot glass, and was proceeding to challenge Elizabeth to a cookie vs Shot game. (The rules are very simple, just like any shot game, except were one person eats a cookie each time the other one takes a shot. Then you reverse jobs. Very fun, and very fattening.)  
  
Which of course, Jack won. Jack could outdrink an extremely thirsty hippo and all her friends if needed.  
  
"You know," Jack slurred. "I'm an African Chieftain." He'd said dreamily.  
  
Jack snapped blearily back into the present. Noticing Elizabeth he curled his moustache with his fingers, giving Elizabeth a flirtatious look. He handed Elizabeth a shot. She drank it.  
  
"Blurk!" She shuddered. "Remind me to never drink again." Jack gave her an appalled look, but then realised she was joking as she held out her hand for another shot. He shuffled, so that his back leant against the cabinet. Elizabeth handed him another cookie.  
  
Jack ran his hands through his hair, carefully removing his headscarf and placing it beside him. The African beads fell flat against the side of his face, the wooden hair ornament that usually stuck out at an odd angle look calm and fitting.  
  
Elizabeth arranged herself so that she was sitting in-between Jack's legs, resting her neck on his collarbone, ready to drowse off. Her skirt was slightly hitched up from the way she was sitting, revealing golden, sun kissed legs that were so long and smooth Jack had to stop himself from reaching out to touch them. When did this girl go to the beach, he thought to himself, and why wasn't I invited?  
  
"Tell me Jack," Elizabeth said, her eyes closed with sleepiness. She loved the feeling of his tanned hard body around her, the slightly erratic-ness to his breathing patterns, the way the beads chimed with each breath. So different from smooth, pale moonlight Will. "Who made you their chief?"  
  
"Well," Jack started, rolling his shoulders slightly to get completely comfortable. "It all started three years after I lost the Pearl. Court robbing a certain Naval Captains wife of her so called chastity, though I know for a fact that she'd been robbed three times that day already." Jack grinned, and flashed his golden teeth. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I was thrown of the naval ship into the warm depths of the Mediterranean."  
  
"Mediterranean?" Elizabeth asked, her geography having always been slightly off. Who needs to know about geography when your life revolves around parties and husbands?  
  
"You don't know where it is, luv?" Jack asked, looking down at her. She shook her head attentively, craning her neck around so she could give Jack a sheepish look. Their lips were very close now; Jack could feel her breath blowing the hairs of his moustache. "It's this ocean in-between Europe and Africa and all those funny little countries round there. Beautiful, like our Caribbean, beaches were the sand's a dusty yellow. You know in France they have rock beaches?" Jack asked, verging of topic.  
  
"They do not." Elizabeth said indignantly.  
  
"Do to."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Who's been to France?" Jack snapped. Elizabeth hid a grin. She loved making Jack angry. She leant forward and brushed her lips against his. She felt the softness of his lips where she'd expected cracked sailors kiss, the sweetness of cookies on his breath, and the barest touch of his tongue... Both of them broke away.  
  
Jack widened his eyes doubtfully.  
  
"Did that just?" He started. Elizabeth turned her face way from him, staring straight forward at the kitchen table. She moved her foot nervously, knocking the cookies on the floor around them.  
  
"Uh huh." She said. Jack made a slight rasping sound, and Elizabeth obediently passed him is rum, before settling back down against his chest.  
  
"Anyway, where were we?" Jack said, a slight faltering in his voice. "That's right, the Mediterranean. Anyway, I floated like a jellyfish for about fifth-teen minutes while the sun popped in and out from between clouds. Not a land mass in sight, and then what happens?"  
  
"What?" Elizabeth queried distractedly, her fingers tracing her lips.  
  
"Fishing boat appears out of nowhere. Beautiful boat, blue likes the sky above." Jack mused.  
  
"Jack?" Elizabeth said quickly, turning around in his arms again.  
  
"What?" He asked guiltily. People usually said his name like that when they were going to yell at him. Had she seen him pinching the silver spoons?  
  
"This." She said, and put her hand on his face, her thumb resting on his beautiful cheekbones, stroking the tanned skin. "And this." She said, her other hand touching the beads in his hair, her nails dragging across his temple. "This..." She whispered, pressing her lips against his.  
  
"Lizzie.." Jack said warningly. She shook her head. He stopped, closing his eyes. "You should have told me about the baby." He whispered.  
  
She faltered, and then turned her head away. Jack seized her chin.  
"Hey, hey. Don't cry." He said soothingly. "You're beautiful. And each sail has it's own wind to take where it will." His charcoal eyes were serene, and he put his hand over his mouth as though deliberating on the action he was about to take.  
  
Then he kissed her, pushing open her mouth, destroying the bonds of friendship with one forceful kiss. He pushed her back onto the floor, running his hand up those long legs, touching that silken golden hair, the untouchable beauty of this sorrowful woman. Her legs twined around his waist obediently, her skirt falling around her waist.  
  
She gasped at the deftness of his hands; at the way he holstered her off the floor, lifting her onto the kitchen table, working in such a deft manor to undo her corset. The roughness of his motions, the way he arched her back against the table so she wasn't sure if it pleasure or pain. And then she realised it was both, as his kisses devoured her neck, the swell where her dress court her breasts.  
  
"Fuck, Lizabeth, shouldn't," Jack panted slightly, feeling Elizabeth's teeth brush over his ear lobe. His hands were going crazy, his mind only able to focus on the touch of her skin, on her slight moans. "Shouldn't do this, can't." He broke off as she kissed him on the mouth, yanking on his beaded hair slightly to pull him down to her. On the kitchen table, his hands had now worked their way up her skirt, and through her complicated undergarments. She pushed him away, embarrassed as she had been with Will, by the way the birth of her son had changed her body.  
  
Jack raised an eyebrow, murmuring against her skin.  
  
"Nothing I ain't seen before love." And his hands resumed what they had been doing. She shuddered slightly beneath his touch. His muddied pirate boots clipped against the wooden table, and her silken dress tore on a slightly risen nail on the table.  
  
Later, he wanted to say he'd tried to mend her with his rough kisses, his fingers trying to put back the shattered pieces, to make her whole with his hands. That when he'd moved inside her, her skin had been like burning fire and her gasps a song. He wanted to say he'd taken her in the soft cool sheets of the bedroom upstairs, worshiping her body with his mouth, teaching her to love with his careful attentions, and that the fire he had conjured had melted the ice on her heart. That she'd up looked at him with her sorrowful brown eyes, and her wonderful sweet lips and found some joy.  
  
But he would have been lying. She sobbed and shook beneath him, on the cold kitchen floor, a fine layer of sweat forming on her very mortal skin. And his hands had not been as kind as he wanted them to be, nor as gentle. That he allowed himself to be rough in a way Will would never have been with her, his kisses bruised her lips, and leaving red love stains on her neck.  
  
He kissed Elizabeth's temple when it was done, and she wept in his arms. He helped her up, and allowed the fragile girl to lead him up the winding stairs to her marriage bed, where he'd taken her again in the soft sun light of the Caribbean.  
  
Their dance was a silent one; there were none of the curses and play fights that there had been with Ana-Maria and Jack. Sometimes Ana-Maria would rake her fingernails down Jack's back, leaving red scars on him and blood beneath her nails. And this was not the sweet, worshiping love that Will gave to Elizabeth, where his hands would touch her so slowly, almost fearfully that she would almost die with anticipation.  
  
What passed between the two of them, the pirate and the angelic noble, was a kind of comfort.  
  
Their dance was a wordless dance.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * . . .  
  
Please R&R. This was a very difficult chap to write because I'm not a Jack and Elizabeth fan, never written to two of them together before. 


	11. Aftermath

* * * * * * * * * * * *  
"They don't have to know." Jack Sparrow said, holding the blonde girl as she wept with guilt. "They never have to know." The sheets were still sticking to them, the blinds turned down so that the midday sun left bars of light over the couple.  
  
"Will is the best husband I could ever have." Elizabeth said, truthfully. She wept softly. "But I feel so alone, Jack. So very alone. And I keep thinking about how small my life has become. I'm dying in this little town." She said, her shoulders shuddering. Jack gave her a rueful look. Tears he did not know how to fix.  
  
"Look," He ran his hand through his hair. "What happened, it was two people in pain, two friends finding comfort." He said jaggedly. For once he didn't know what to say. He felt the sick feeling of betrayal sink into his stomach like bad rum.  
  
"Oh, Jack, I don't know what's wrong with me. And now I've brought you into this whole mess, and I don't even know why you're upset, why you came here. I'm so selfish Jack. I've always been selfish." She pulled away from him, wrapping her naked arms around her raised knees, rocking slightly.  
  
"Look how I used Norrington without a qualm, promising to marry him for my own bidding. I'm just some petty noble girl, expecting the entire Naval fleet to be at her beck and call, searching the ocean for me, saving me. Look how I used my father, and how I've treated Will.." She moaned, wiping her long hands across her face.  
  
"It's okay love," He said, his arm on her bare shoulder, his eyes watching the ribs on her frail body pocking through her skin. "I don't judge you."  
  
"I know. That's why when you came here, I felt, I don't know. Being around you makes it so much easier, just to be me. With Will, I feel like, oh god, how can say these things about him."  
  
"Just say it love, there's no one here but you and me." He said comfortingly. She paused for a moment, her jagged breath becoming quieter.  
  
"With Will, sometimes I feel like I have to be someone I'm not. Someone sweet and kind and perfect, when I'm none of those things. I feel like I'm living a lie Jack, and that one day he'll wake up and he'll hate me. And that there is nothing I can do about it."  
  
"Oh, Lizzie, the boy's mad about you."  
  
"But I don't even think he knows me." She whispered fearfully, wiping her eyes and pressing her frail from against Jack's. He patted her hair, his eyes closed.  
  
"I'm sorry, Lizzie. I should have stopped this." He said.  
"Jack, it's not your fault. We both did this." She kissed his temple. "Thank you for being here for me Jack." And something in Elizabeth broke, and she wept.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Will was whistling. He felt the heavy key to the blacksmiths in his pocket, banging against his leg. The sun was heavy in the sky, getting ready to rest. Will smiled happily.  
  
He'd left the blacksmiths' early, because there was no knowing what amount of trouble Jack could get into in one day. Elizabeth was smart, but no one was smart enough to entertain a pirate with the concentration level of a very small hamster for an entire day.  
  
Unless she'd done the cookie thing. Elizabeth could bake cookies all day and keep a man's attention.  
  
Elizabeth and Will had spent the first three days in their house christening every room, and baking cookies. Thank god no one had been watching them, because even Will hadn't been able to look respectful covered in chocolate chips on the bathroom floor.  
  
He nodded at a few of the people on the street, his huge hat resting heavily on his head. He remembered going out to buy the hat. It had been to make some kind of gesture, an acceptance. Or maybe it had just been a stupid boy buying a stupid hat. Still, even though he'd now resigned to being a blacksmith, he kept the hat. It made him feel like he was honouring the father he'd never really known.  
  
The house was dark, lacking servants because Will had sent them away on Jack's arrival. Will unlocked the light wooden front door, which swung open with polished ease. The living room and the dining room were empty; the big windows that showed the sea wide open. The wind blew the white curtains, and rustled the tapestry on the wall. Will made for them in three quick steps, a frown on his face.  
  
The courtyard was also empty, and a cup of cold coffee rested on the dining room table. Will noticed all these things, the way that one candlestick was missing, the overturned cushions on the couch. He looked perplexed, and darted to the kitchen.  
  
Something crunched underfoot. Will gazed down at the broken cookie, crushed into his new boots. The floor was covered in them, and they had gone from soft chewy brown to crunchy, as they had cooled. Will noticed Jack's headscarf, discarded on the kitchen floor, and picked it up. He was starting to panic.  
  
Something caught the corner of his eye. A strip of Elizabeth's gown, caught on a nail on the kitchen table. He picked it up carefully, a mixture of sorrow and fear in his eyes. The green fabric slipped from beneath his fingers, falling to the floor. He bent down to pick it up, and then dashed upstairs.  
  
His footsteps were heavy on the stairs, the new wood of the house sighing under the pressure. He ran his hand along the whitewashed walls, leaving stains from the blacksmith's anvil, but he did not care. Empty, empty, all these rooms empty. He made for the master bedroom, hoping Elizabeth was asleep, or the Jack had passed out in a drunken stupor and Elizabeth was at the shops.  
  
Please let them be there, he prayed. Please let them be safe.  
  
Nothing, nothing could have prepared him for the sight he saw.  
  
To find your wife in bed with a pirate is one thing but to have her cheat on you in your bed with a man you loved and trusted with your life is infinitely worse.  
  
If you had told Will a moment ago what lay on the other side of that door, he would not have believed you. Will was the honest type; this kind of infidelity did not even ever cross the mind of an honest person.  
  
Jack lay wrapped around Elizabeth. Both of them were on their sides, facing Will. Elizabeth's breasts were bare and white in the four o'clock afternoon; her hair curled over one shoulder and cascading down her neck. Jack's arm lay draped over her waist, his lips moving fast against her ear, whispering words. His other hand stroked her hair lovingly, his naked chest pressed against her back. The sheet lay around the two of them, resting indecently just below Elizabeth's waist so that the barest beginning's of a pale snail trail could be seen climbing to her belly button.  
  
Will felt as though his heart had dropped to his knees, and his body shook slightly with disbelief. His mouth went dry, and it was as though a black cloud had fallen into his body and was tearing every piece of him apart. He took in a sharp breath, his face contorting with confusion and exquisite pain.  
  
A sob escaped him, one tiny noise. The other two's eyes snapped up, and Will didn't know what was worse. The picture of them in bed together, or the look in Elizabeth's eyes. Elizabeth sat up, her beautiful eyes widening with distress. She pulled the blanket up over her body guilty. Jack rolled over onto his back, closing his eyes with disbelieve.  
  
"Fuck," Jack Sparrow whispered, which sounded like a gunshot in the desolated room. Elizabeth gave him a look with was almost disgust. Disgusted with herself.  
  
Revulsion filled Will. How could she let that pirate touch her?  
  
"I'll kill him." Will said, drawing his blade clumsily. "I'll tear him to pieces."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"No you won't." Elizabeth said simply. She stood up, pulling the sheet with her, revealing more of Jack Sparrow to Will then the blacksmith would have liked. She bent down, carefully not to let the sheet fall, and tossed Jack his pants. Jack pulled them over his legs, still lying on the bed, his back arching as he did the buckle up.  
  
"How could you?" Will spat angrily. "How could you do.. With him? I'll kill him." He repeated with a shake of the head, making as though to attack. Elizabeth stepped in his way, placing her hand on his hand.  
  
"No you won't. I said a long time ago that my place was between you and Jack. And I was right. It still is." She gave him a long look. "You'll have to kill me first Will." Will looked into her brown eyes, the woman he'd worshiped with his being for so many years. He raised his blade as though to strike her. She flinched, raising her chin slightly to steel herself from the blow.  
  
The blade clanged to the floor, and Will's face crumpled. He raised a hand, and slapped her hard across the face. She nearly fell, the blood rushing to her head, her entire body reeling sideways with the force of the blow.  
  
"Bitch." He spat. Then he looked at her, at the tear streaks on her face, the crumpled hair and the bruises forming around her wrist from when Jack had, no he couldn't think about it.  
  
Jack swung his legs of the bed, running his hands through his hair.  
  
"Look, mate, it was just..." He started.  
  
"Shut up, for once shut the fuck up you mangy cur." Will's voice rang out. "I can't even look at you." He said, his words directed at Elizabeth. "How could you take that pirate to your bed? Did treat you well Elizabeth, nice and rough when he was.."  
  
"Don't," Elizabeth held up a hand. "Don't Will, don't say these things. You don't understand."  
  
"And he does? How can he understand you more then I do?" Will said jaggedly. Jack Sparrow stood awkwardly, his head hung in shame. He'd never truly betrayed anyone before. Not like this.  
  
"Will," Elizabeth said, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. She put her hand to his face, her thumb tracing the trail of a teardrop. "Will, I'm so sorry."  
  
Will bite his lip, another tear dripping down his face. Then he clenched his fist, and punched Elizabeth in the face, which sent her reeling to the floor this time. Jack Sparrow jumped to her side but she shook him off, holding her cheek. A dark scarlet mark appeared around her eye. She looked up at Will, he took his ring of his finger and tossed it on the ground before her.  
  
"Take your gold, Miss Swann." Will pronounced angrily, and turned, striding out of the room.  
  
Elizabeth reached forward, grabbing the ring, and got shakily to her feet. She pulled on her nightdress and made to follow Will.  
  
"Liz," Jack said, doubt in his eyes. She turned and gave him a look as though she didn't know him. Jack backed away, sitting down on the bed and hanging his head between his knees.  
  
Elizabeth made her wavering down the darkening corridor.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Angry. Not a happy chapter. I had a shitty day and got a bloody 100 dollar fine for not having a concession card, so sorry, I might have taken it out a bit on Jack. Please read and review, reviews are seriously the only thing getting me through this crappy week. 


	12. That Bitter Taste

* * * * * * * * * * * *  
Jack left the house, a few buttons shorter then he had arrived, and none of his problems solved. He'd come here to ask Will for help with Ana- Maria, to get the advice of his one true friend. He hadn't come here to, god; he couldn't even comprehend what he had done yet.  
  
The sun had truly set now, and Jack made his dazed way back to the boat, his erratic gait more erratic then usual. The jungle path that he had to walk through was hot, and branches tore at this face but he made no attempt to bat them away.  
  
The Black Pearl rested in a little bay, a few lanterns cheerfully lit. It looked like home. A rowboat rested against the sand, its white paint chipping. Three pirates were filling it with supplies, their coarse voices lost in song. Jack leant against a tree, watching them work.  
  
Too much had changed, and now he was to set sail as though nothing was different.  
  
He knew he would never be welcome in Port Royal again. Not that he ever truly had been, but he knew now that he'd lost the one safe haven he had if everything else fell apart.  
  
He'd lost Will, he'd broken the trust he had with Elizabeth, and he was losing Ana-Maria bit by bit.  
  
"Captain," A black hand rested on his shoulder. Ana-Maria had come up behind him silently, her dark eyes so beautiful. Jack shivered, and for once seemed to be on the verge of tears. He resumed gazing at the pirates, who worked on oblivious. Ana-Maria watched them to, her white shirt loose around her, and her arm still resting on his shoulder. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, feeling its dry crackle beneath her fingers.  
  
She decided not to repeat the words he'd said to her last night. There was no point is remembering a drunk man's words. Neither the insult or the, well, name he'd call her.  
  
"Ana-Maria." Jack said huskily, his hand moving up to rest on hers. They stood silent for a moment. Then Jack shook his head, lowering his eyes. "We'll set sail." He stalked over to the other pirates, Ana-Maria a step behind, slightly thrown of by his brisk change in moods.  
  
"Now?" She asked disbelievingly. "Set sail now? What about supplies? Shore leave? Captain?" She grabbed Jack Sparrow's arm, spinning him around so he pivoted in the sand, nearly fell, but was forced to look at her. He went very still, and then carefully removed her hand.  
  
"You know what, for once I'd like for you just to do what I say." Jack said humourlessly, and Ana-Maria scanned his face.  
  
"Aye aye, captain," She said sarcastically, and holstered a bag of grain over her shoulder. Jack looked up to the heavy sky above, and rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long day.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Gibbs," Jack Sparrow called out to the fat pirate, who was nestled safely in the crow's nest above the boat. Jack scratched his chin thoughtfully. He hadn't thought the old man agile enough to get up there, but somehow; he really didn't want to see the old mans derrière descending on him so he wasn't about to call him down to ask him.  
  
"Aye Captain?" Gibbs called down.  
  
"Are we ready to set sail?" Jack yelled, his hands on his hips. Gibbs nodded, and returned to the ropes he'd been seeing to. Jack heard the opening of a bottle behind him, and the sound of someone drinking. His head swung round faster then if it had been slapped.  
  
"Aye, Captain, but ready to set sail to where?" Ana-Maria asked, climbing out of the shadow of the stairway. Jack leant against the railing, letting his back arch so that he felt the wind tug at his dreadlocks. He paused with thought, his eyes watchful of the black girl's mood. Usually she didn't let him snap at her like that and get away with it so easily. Sometime soon, she was going to make him pay for it.  
  
"Where would you like to go my bonnie lass?" He asked, trying to distract himself from what he was running away from. Now that he was on the Pearl again, with his fingertips itching to find his wind and the waves waiting to answer his beck and call, the memories of what had happened in that little house were already fading out of his mind. There were a million ports, Jack rationalised, with a million naïve boys and bottle blonde woman.  
  
A million ports that he could visit at his choosing. He had the freedom to run from the parts of his life he didn't like. That's what the Pearl was all about, wasn't it? Freedom.  
  
Then why did he have such a bitter taste in his mouth?  
  
He strode past Ana-Maria, who had been talking this whole while, and went bellow deck, followed by curious glances from the entire crew. Ana- Maria widened her eyes, her mouth still open mid sentence. She shook her head.  
  
"Well, you heard the man. Pull anchor, hoist the sails, and fix the starboard cannons." Ana-Maria shouted. She pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, fiddling with her earring while the men jumped to work around her.  
  
"Where to, Ana?" Gibbs called down. Ana-Maria thinned her eyes as she looked up at him, the blinding sun causing a halo around Gibbs's ugly face.  
  
"To the hoard." She murmured, almost to herself. She looked around and repeated their destination louder. "To the hoard and riches. Aye, men. Get to work." There was a rough chorus of cheers, and then Ana-Maria turned on her heel, following the Captain below deck. The rest of the crew shot her sympathetic looks.  
  
She ran her hand along the wooden wall, and strained her ears to hear any sounds coming from Jack's cabin. What she'd expected, she didn't know. Tears, or some display of fury. She'd never known Jack to be a quiet man, or a man who kept in his emotions. Whatever had caused him to run like a scared cat out of Port Royal would not be easily hid.  
  
"Sparrow?" She said, pushing open the door and knocking her nails on its hard wood. He sat at his desk, a quill poised perilously above a piece of parchment, chewing on his lip with concentration. "Jack?" He nodded to acknowledge her present, and then dropped the quill with frustration.  
  
He ran his hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief at the blank parchment. Ana-Maria sighed, closing the door softly. She leant against Jack's bookcase, running her hands over the dusty shelves.  
  
"Jack, you gunna tell me what's wrong?" She whispered, her words running slightly together as her childhood accent appeared.  
  
"Who said there was anything wrong?" He replied with a shake of the head. He pulled open a draw and drew out a rum bottle. He stood up, looking about the room as though he'd lost his purpose.  
  
"Jack Sparrow, I know there's something wrong. You're leaving port without a words explanation and a scowl when you've been looking forward to this visit for months." She pursued the point, refusing to let it drop. Jack threw out his arms, thrown slightly off balance by the rum bottle.  
  
"Welcome to the Caribbean love, fucked up things happen here." He rolled his eyes, and then rubbed his ear. Ana-Maria raised her eyebrows. He sat down on the bed, tipping his head back as he drank the rum.  
  
"Fine. If you don't want to talk about it." Ana-Maria said, unbuttoning her shirt, and peeling it off. Her white undershirt clung to her, revealing every contour her body. She walked over to Jack, pulling the rum bottle out of his hand and setting it on the bedside table.  
  
She stood in-between his legs, his hands coming up automatically onto her skin just below her hips. His head was tilted to the side, its expression sad and thoughtful. She ran her hand over his hair, and kissed his lips. Then she reached down, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt.  
  
He grabbed her hands.  
  
"Ana, I'm not in the mood." Jack Sparrow said. Ana-Maria let a smile play across her face.  
  
"You? Since when as the great Captain Jack Sparrow not been in the mood?" She asked, pushing his shirt of his shoulders. He tried to grab at it, but it had already fallen away on the bed.  
  
Red kiss marks were obvious against his skin, blue bruises caused by fingerprints wrapped around his shoulder, and there were tell tale little scratches from nails up his arm. He winced, and rubbed his hand over his temple again.  
  
Ana's fingers trailed down his arm, her face passive while Jack tried to read her response. She looks so sad, Jack thought, so sad and tired and sombre.  
  
"Ana, I'm sorry," He said automatically and again the words soured in his mouth. He was sorry, but that wasn't the point. That was irrelevant. He wanted her to ask why he'd done it, to watch him as he fumbled with his words, so that maybe he could figure it out himself.  
  
He open his mouth to continue speaking, but she placed a finger over his lips, and leant down to kiss him again, her full body pressed against him, his head tilted upwards. He felt her tongue slip into his mouth, the coolness of her careful caress.  
  
She broke away, replacing the finger on his lips.  
  
"It's happened before Jack." She said softly. "I don't care about you and your whores. We're all weak sometimes." She paused, letting him read the pain in her eyes. "But what happened in Port, stays in Port. And we don't take it into this bed with us." She said slowly, repeating the words that she'd said those other times.  
  
Those other times when Jack hadn't come back to the Pearl at night. When he had ended up in one of the perfumed whorehouses with coins from the hoard. Those times when he'd come back to her the next day, rum soddened and miserable, fearing he'd lost her. When he couldn't remember half of the night before, everything awash with the red haze of liquor and drugs and the taste of oblivion.  
  
Every time, fearing he'd lost her.  
  
The first few times, she'd yelled and screamed, and he'd promised, fervently that he'd never be with anyone else, never wanted anyone else. And ever time, she'd take him back. And he'd be true to his word, for a month, or six months, or a year. But there were the times he was weak, and to love Jack, you had to understand that.  
  
You can't cage to wind unless you destroy it.  
  
"Ana, it's not like the other times.." He started.  
  
"Shhhh." She whispered, her cheek against his. "Please Jack, just kiss me. Kiss me and make me feel alive like only you can do. You know it's never as good with anyone else, no body can do you like I can." She promised, tugging at his bottom lip with her mouth.  
  
"No, love, you right." He said, and pulled her back on to the bed with him.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Ile De Muerta." Jack said expressionlessly. It was becoming a tradition now, this silence and reverence that came over the pirates as they approached that dreaded ile. Not all of them had been with Jack Sparrow on the interceptor when he went after his beloved Pearl, some had left, some had died, and new men had been added to the crew but all of crew knew the story.  
  
They knew that Jack had destroyed the immortal Barbossa there, and tricked a whole crew to their deaths. All knew that Jack had dragged Barbossa's bedraggled and rotting corpse into the sun a month later, letting the dead man's face feel the kiss of the ocean and had left him there for twenty four hours. Until the moon lay heavy in the sky, and Barbossa's motley skin felt its touch for the first time in ten years.  
  
Then Jack Sparrow had taken the body of his mutinous first mate into the jungle, burying it next the scented fruit trees where monkeys swung overhead and bickered.  
  
Some, very close to Jack, knew that the bones of Jack's brother Tom were also buried in that cool jungle.  
  
Jack clambered down from the crows nest, and jumped with cat like grace onto the deck. He grinned. Surely, if any treasure could make it right with Will and Elizabeth, it would lie in that cavern.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Author note: I love Jack (duh!), he just doesn't understand anything!!! Please read and review, you'll make my day and I will send you a cyber cookie. That's a very good bribe. GO ALL you who have reviewed so far, good karma to all of you!  
  
After this story, I'm definitely going back to PG13 and fluff for a while. Emotionally draining much. (I think I managed to charm my way out of that evil fine, hehe, so I'm very happy and doing the dance.) Jackfan2: Woah, Jack tortured and Ana killed? I read that and was like, hmmm, were would I take the story from there, and my fingers got all itchy to write. It's such a cool situation; I can't wait to read your spin on it. I laughed when you said Jack should throw Ana of the boat, she does seem to be causing him some trouble, it's so very very tempting. You can definitely send me happy pills, lots of happy pills, oh waitthe doctor told me I wasn't to take any more happy pills, happy pills BAD, hehe, just joking. 


	13. The things we do

Author note: Thank you reviewers; you know who YOU are, and please continue to review. Today's was the first day of summer here, and I love it. Tell me where you want this story to go, because I have two conclusions I'm toying with, and just can't decide! Feedback, any kind, is very welcome!  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Men." Jack said, standing on the rock podium much as Barbossa had years earlier. Jack holstered himself up onto the smooth marble Aztec treasure chest. A dagger lay in his hand, and he fiddled with it. A bejewelled crown rested in-between his matted dread locks. "I mean, Gentleman," Jack joked, and the pirates laughed crudely. All of them were dressed up to the hilt in jewels and trinkets. "Our hoard!"  
  
A chorus of cheers went up, oath's shouted, and coins thrown in the air.  
  
This revelry in the gold would go on for another hour, each man preening and weighing up the pieces of gold he was to choose. It was a rule on the Pearl that only five pieces be taken out of the hoard by each member at anytime, except the captain of course. Jack could take whatever he wanted, and no one questioned him on it.  
  
Ana-Maria was slicing a fruit with her knife, careful not to cut her fingers. She walked carelessly through the isles of gold, her tongue occasionally licking the juices from the fruit and the sweat of her lips. Her fingers occasionally went to the emerald necklace that hung heavy around her neck. Five gemstones worked into the purest white gold.  
  
She caught Jack's eye, and allowed herself to hold the gaze for a moment, a smile brushing her lips. He grinned back, a soft grin that was too vulnerable and adoring for a pirate captain. He got distracted as someone passed him a drink, and by the time he turned back she'd looked away, allowing her own smile to fall on her boots.  
  
She was imaging kissing him, pushing him back on the marble chest and telling him how much she loved him, relishing in his touch for the last time, memorizing the taste of his kisses, the way his beard scratched against her chin, her feeling of his breath on her skin.  
  
The sun steamed in through the natural sunlights overhead, beautiful and full in the midday weather. The pirate's cloths stuck to them, and each was glad for the cool stone on which they could sit.  
  
Hours later, the pirates had drifted out of the cavern by the secret passage that lead up to the beach, and had lit a bomb fire. Red sparks flew up in the air, and rum was being passed around. A roast pig sizzled succulently over a flame, and the pirates toasted fresh fruit picked from the trees on long sticks while they waited for the meat to cook.  
  
The Captain played cards with a tall Chinaman named Xian, who drank as much as Sparrow did and could nearly best him in drinking contest. They passed between them a pipe, whose thick and scented smoke sweep across the party. Three of the other men, two white and one black, where swimming, their clothes in a heap on the wet sand, their reflections like inky white and black shadows against the navy blue water. Their cries could be heard all across the beach, as they splashed and dunked each other in the clear water.  
  
Gulls circled overhead, picking at the discarded food, and adding to the noise and clamour of the night. And someone had started to sing the pirate song, their voice mingling with the waves.  
  
Gibbs lay in a drugged state on the sand, gazing up at the appearing stars, his lips moving slightly to words he did not speak. He felt every nerve in his body vibrate, energy running out from his spine and into his fingers and toes.  
  
Ana-Maria was nowhere to be seen. And far away, the cry of a monkey could be heard.  
  
* * * * ** * ** * ** * * * Ana-Maria sat in the cavern of the hoard, her fingers stroking the emerald blade at her side thoughtfully. She had pushed off the marble top hours again, had run her fingers over the Aztec designs etched into the case. The stars shone dimly on the gold, and they glinted faintly. She was thinking about earlier that day, when she'd accompanied the Captain to Barbossa's gravesite. The man Jack had hunted for ten years as the enemy he now mourned as a beloved friend. The weeds had grown over the grave sight, so it was lucky Jack had erected a rough cross over the body. The forest was already claiming Barbossa as it's own.  
  
Jack had put an apple on the grave, tilting his head as though listening. Whatever he was waiting for did not come, and he sighed. Ana-Maria had leant on the shovel she'd bought uncomfortably. She didn't know exactly why she'd bought the shovel with her. She'd thought that maybe they would be clearing the graves, digging up weeds and debris that had grown. It now seemed la foolish idea.  
  
That place, with its wild trailing plants and throbbing animal life, was a pirate's gravesite. It was nothing more and nothing less.  
  
Jack had bought no offering for the brother he'd also buried there. That grave was older, merely a slight rise in the grass and one stick pointing upwards to the brilliant sky to mark the spot.  
  
Then Jack Sparrow had pushed Ana-Maria up against a tree, his mouth hot and fast on hers, his fingers itching to release her hair from the loose braid she wore it in. The sound of her dress sliding up her thighs thrilled him, made him find pure pleasure in the fact that he was indeed still alive. She tasted salt on his lips, on his skin. She felt the hard bark against her back, and the swaying grass against her ankles. She'd gone barefoot into the jungle.  
  
They'd moved away from the grave sights to make love, finding a small clearing which over looked the beach and the harbour far below. The Pearl sat uneasily on the water, looking out of place in the uninhabited island. The beginning of smoke had been rising in the air from the beach when Jack had torn the buttons of her white shirt and she had pressed her lips to the fading bruises on his arms.  
  
Now in the cold cavern, hours later, Ana-Maria could still remember the heat from his skin burning into her. She could still feel the clang of his beads on her ear as he lay above her.  
  
With one last thought, she reached into the chest, and picked up a medallion. It was cold beneath her touch, her fingertips pressed against the skull and cross.  
  
She didn't know what she had expected.  
  
Some loud noise, a sudden wave of nausea, a burst of light maybe.  
  
None of happened. She placed the medallion over her neck, and under her clothes, feeling it's cold embrace against her skin.  
  
She stepped into the moonlight, and looked down at herself. Bone's peaking out from clothing that seemed to have been torn and buried, the last bit of flesh clinging to her fingertips as though she was still rotting. Ana-Maria raised her hand to her noise, feeling the cavity there with surprise. Her hair was matted and lifeless, dry straw like strands that hung heavy down her back. She didn't feel any different, and yet there it was, all she had to do was look down and see the metamorphosis.  
  
She could feel the wind blowing through where her stomach should be.  
  
Ana-Maria stepped out of the bright moonlight, back into the shades, relieved to feel her skin across her bones again.  
  
She made her way out of the cavern, onto the cool rocky beach still far from where the other pirates were drinking themselves into a drunken stupor. She stripped off her rough cloths, feeling the moonlight land on her, knowing it was peeling away her skin and her dusty African complexion, to reveal the skeloton underneath. She took of the medallion, carefully placing it in her shirt pocket, and went into the waves.  
  
She was astounded by the coldness of those waves. The wind blew her hair, and she dived into the water, feeling for the first time truly free.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * 


	14. Morning's light

* * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack Sparrow swaggered up the beach, coming out of the darkening cavern into the bright light of the day. His pupils were huge from the darkness, and he blinked rapidly as the light almost blinded him. He found footprints on the sand, and grinned.  
  
Tracing the soft, small footprints of his first mate up out of the beach and through the beginning of the forest were palm trees grew with white sand as their bed, he struggled to remember when Ana-Maria had disappeared last night. Not that her disappearing on such nights was unusual, since she didn't much enjoy seeing naked pirates wrestling in the water, especially since the waters of the Caribbean where so damn clear.  
  
Still, he thought, rubbing his hand over his chin, she usually came back for him sometime during the night, so that they could go off together and find a quiet place to spend the last few dark hours.  
  
Somehow though, he had the feeling from his throbbing head and aching back, that he had been in no condition to do very much at all last night. He also seemed to have lost all his money to that cheating bastard, and had had to sneakily go back to the hoard to refill his money pouch. Couldn't have the rest of the crew knowing he did that, so that's why he was up so early.  
  
He heard the sound of running water, and grinned to himself. Sure enough, soon he found himself in a clearing, with a wide river that lead to a deep looking pool. Icy waters trickled from the lush green flora, weaving its way through the rocks and down to a small waterfall.  
  
Ana-Maria was asleep down on the banks of the river. Her shirt was thrown over her shoulders, but she was using her trews as a rough pillow, and her chocolaty brown thighs where curled slightly towards her head.  
  
Jack grinned.  
  
He waded through the water slowly, knowing damn well that it would be just like him to slip over and crack his head if he wasn't careful. His wet shoes squelched on the grass as he clambered up on the bank next to her. His shadow fell over her face, and she murmured slightly in her sleep, her fingers curled possessively around her dagger. Jack could see the emerald glinting at the hilt, and he would have been mighty tempted to try and steal it off her if he didn't know its history.  
  
Trying to steal that dagger would definitely result in a stab in the back.  
  
Jack Sparrow eased himself out on the grass beside her, placing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. He thought for a moment, and then took of his head, tossing in carefully onto a patch of grass.  
  
He watched her sleeping, the small intakes of breath and the slight pur as she let them out. He could also see down her top rather well from this angle and smirked happily.  
  
A lot of things made Jack Sparrow happy, rum being a main contender. But it was the little things as well, the look on the pirates faces when they were sharing their gold, the sound of the chaos of Tortugua.  
  
He'd learnt that from Barbossa's experience, that even the taste of an apple should be savoured.  
  
Lying by Ana-Maria in the sun of the blooming day was enough. Being welcomed and embraced by Will once was enough. Comforting Elizabeth was enough. He cherished these moments more then he would let on, more then the finery in that cold cavern. These moments were enough for a pirate who had no right to ask for any more.  
  
She looked so vulnerable when she slept, the tension flowing out of her into the forest floor. It was like all day she built up this pressure, like a spring, ready to leap into battle, and only when she slept did that drain away.  
  
"When Jack, no more on duty call'd, his true love's tokens over haul'd; The broken gold, the braided hair," He hummed softly, letting the words take their own tune, brushing Ana-Maria's hair out of her eyes, calling her back to him.  
  
Her eyes opened, and she watched him as he continued to hum. He was looking up at the clouds, his mind already focusing on the weather and the navigation and the hundred of other things he had to do as Captain. Panic flashed in her eyes fleetingly, as she felt the medallion heavy in the shirt pocket against her breast. He was so close; he could just reach out and take the medallion, if he saw it. Then she relaxed. Who cares, he'd have to find out eventually.  
  
And she'd have to explain.  
  
"Are you singing my song Captain?" She mumbled, rolling onto her side away from him, stuffing the medallion quickly into her discarded cloak. She turned back to him to have him grinning at her.  
  
"I rather thought it was my song." He replied cheekily. "Don't see any braids in your hair. And to my recollection, I'm the only Jack around here." He thought about this for a moment, his perplexed expression on his face. Then he tilted his head down, and raised his eyebrows suggestively, though what that was in reference to Ana-Maria could not fathom. She replayed what he had just said in her head and shrugged. Sometimes Jack just didn't make sense.  
  
"Jack," She laughed, getting up and stretching. He watched the shirt ride up mid thigh level, and once again thanked god for having a female aboard his ship. Made morning's much more interesting.  
  
"So, my bonnie lass." He said, standing also. He took her elbows in his hands so that she stood especially close to him. He turned on the Sparrow charm, flashing his golden teeth. "What made you think it was your song?" He leered at her.  
  
"Because Jack," She said sweetly, with a little shake of her head. "You always sing it to me when you're drunk." She grinned, while his expression became confused and dubious. She laughed, and then pushed past him, dipping her toes into the cool part of the stream. She walked in up to her knees, and then casually took of her shirt, throwing it to Jack.  
  
He caught the shirt with a grin, noticing her naked chest become exposed to the cool morning air. She lifted her hair up into a pony tale with her hands, draping it over one shoulder as she stepped further into the water. Jack Sparrow watched the flash of her white flowery tattoo embroidered up her back as her skin rippled with movement under the dappled light. She looked truly like an artwork in his eyes, some sacred treasure with beautiful etchings and patterns all over her that only the owners of them could read.  
  
And he could read them. He had bought her tattoo, and he understood the story behind it.  
  
"Are you coming in, love?" Ana-Maria called out to him mischievously.  
  
She could feel the wind play with her hair and press against her skin and the warm water, which had risen to her waist, but the touch of the sun on her skin passed unnoticed. The birds and the sound of the water did not seem harmonious, simply present. She shook her head slightly, trying to expel these thoughts.  
  
"I can feel." She whispered. She heard Jack wading through the water, his lean body coming up behind her and for once she did not mind his fingers on her scar, or the way he cautiously kissed one oleander of her tattoo.  
  
"Care to expand on exactly what you can feel?" Jack said grinning, half turning her to kiss her lips. She arched back towards water, so that her beautiful hair trailed its ends into the silky abyss. She dropped her head back, so that she could see the water, while Jack's strong arms supported her neck.  
  
Her laughter rang out through the valley.  
  
Jack Sparrow brought her head back up to him, drawing her into a slow, sensuous kiss, while she smiled against his lips. He could see their reflection in the brilliant water, a perfect mirror of chocolate brown and creamy white, speckled with the white flowers of her tattoo and matching inky black hair.  
  
"I love you." She whispered into his mouth. "God, I love you Jack, love you always."  
  
And in the jungle, the scream of a monkey sounded.  
  
"Always?" Jack teased, running his fingers over her collarbone. "Might keep you to that." * * * * * * * * * * * * 


	15. Lost in fragile daydreams

Author note: This is an extra long chapter, one that I took my time writing and it's the turning point of the story really, after this things will suddenly fall into place. I know I haven't updated in a while, but I've been lacking inspiration. You guys know the tune, R&R and there's a cookie in it for you. I'm not sure if I will finish this story, though I have written the final scene in my mind. I think this might have been too adventurous a story for me, its been really draining to write. I realised suddenly I have taken some inspiration from this story from the sixth season of buffy, so if anyone wants a deeper insight into what's going on in Ana-Maria's head I definitely think you might find it there. Jackfan2: I think you might be the only one still reading this warped tale from my mind, so if I do finish it, I'll finish it for you hon. * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
They lay in the long grass, which swayed against their skin and shielded them from view. Jack Sparrow lay gazing down at Ana-Maria, the blue sky a crowning backdrop to his face. He stroked her cheek possessively, and grinned at her.  
  
She smiled serenely back at him, and tucked a stray dread lock behind his ear. Then she grabbed the plaits of his beard and tugged them cruelly, grinning. He yelped, ducking away from her in pain. She wrapped her white shirt around her breasts, and made a quick dash for it. The long grass stroked her knees as she ran, laughing.  
  
He grabbed her, wrestling her to the ground, tearing a kiss from her mouth.  
"Gunna have to punish you for that." He growled, placing her hands over her head silkily. She made a movement as though to knee him in his most prized area, and he widened his eyes with a sudden dubious fear.  
  
She rolled him over so that she lay on top of him, and then paused. She ran her fingernails down his chest.  
  
"Would you buy me a boat?" She said suddenly. Jack placed his arms under his head, and looked up at her lazily.  
  
"Are you asking me to buy you a boat lassie? You'll have to be very nice to me." He sat up, kissing her ear lobe. She laughed and pushed him back down, nuzzling his chest. "What kind of boat do you want?"  
  
"A bright pink one with bunnies painted on the sails." Ana-Maria said with all seriousness.  
  
"Huh?" Sparrow pulled away. Ana-Maria laughed, toying with his beads now, untangling them from the surrounding hair.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing." She joked, her eyes twinkling playfully. "A big boat, with black sails, one to rival the Pearl." She said dreamily.  
  
"Nothing rivals the Pearl love." He said. Ana-Maria lay down, resting her chest on her head, content to see the sun and know Jack's breath blew the strands of her hair.  
  
"We could have out own fleet. Be the scourges of the ocean." She paused, and grinned. "You could show me those beaches you're always taking about, in France." Jack frowned, remembering talking to Elizabeth about those beaches. He drew Ana-Maria's skin closer to him, rubbing the hairs of her arm so that they stood up.  
  
"I will take you to see them, love." He promised. "I'll take you everywhere, to the cool beaches of the isle Cyprus, the rock beaches of France. Show England in the autumn," He mused.  
  
"You've been to England?" She asked, surprised. The British Navy was fierce, and not something to be dealt with lightly.  
  
"Aye, I lived there for two years. I'll take you there, when it gets cold here. Take you to see the snow."  
  
"When?" She said, smiling. Jack shrugged slyly. She shoved his chest. "You lying old pirate you, you won't do any of the sort."  
  
"Will too."  
  
"Will not."  
  
"Will too." He said, giving her a grumpy look. She laughed. "Captain Jack Sparrow's a man of his word." Ana-Maria raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Sorry Jack, but I don't think that's exactly what your known for. I think certain other aspects of your personality has made you known, specially in the bars of Tortugua" She said, jabbing him in the ribs. He laughed, and she paused. "You don't laugh that often Jack."  
  
"I know. Doesn't go with the pirate look." He joked, kissing the palm of her hand graciously. She watched his fingers, the way they moved across her stomach.  
  
"Promise you'll take me to those places?"  
  
"Love," He paused, his eyes lingering on the few white clouds that hung in the hot morning sky. "I see you and I in the future as far as my mind can reach." He said with unusual seriousness. Ana-Maria moved so that she could look at his expression, searching it for confirmation of what he had just said. He nodded, and she accepted his offering.  
  
It was the closest he was ever going to get to saying I love you.  
  
Ana-Maria licked her lips, staring with wonderment at the complicated man that lay at her side. She tilted her head, and kissed him, a soft uncomplicated brush of the lips.  
  
Sometimes people can be very beautiful.  
  
"Chasing the horizon?" She asked.  
  
What did he see for their future? Was he so simple that he thought they would never change, could never change? Or was he so arrogant that he did not think that time would wear away at them, corroding their love and their bodies? Did he see for them pirate's death, a blazing battle, fists and spitting saliva and blood with joking last words? Did he see children, pressing their demanding hands against their parent's thighs, claiming love and affection in each glance?  
  
Or did he simply just see the two of them, locked forever together, a mingling of beautiful words and bodies, something precious and unchanging from battle to battle.  
  
"Chasing the horizon." He confirmed, accepting her kiss, and pulling her tenderly into his arms. "Always chasing our horizon."  
  
"You and me forever, hon." She whispered hoarsely.  
  
And she prayed for her words to be strong enough, to wrap them in a protective blanket with their love, to hold them together.  
  
She prayed for clear skies, and smooth sailing.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
They walked down to the beach, their hands still linked. It felt strange holding hands, felt unlike them. But yet it felt right. Jack hummed underneath his breathe, and Ana-Maria scowled when she picked up the tune to the song, shoving him into part of the foliage.  
  
"What did I say about the song, Jack!?!" She said angrily, but with no really malice in her words. Jack Sparrow picked himself up about of the book and leered at her, draping his arm around her shoulder.  
  
"That it's the best song in the world."  
  
"You and your songs." She said with a hint of amusement.  
  
They reached the beach and broke away from each other automatically. Ana-Maria spread her arms, and watched the wind blowing her clothes. She remembered how it had blown through her last night, and the thought sobered her from the light antics of the morning. She grinned, watching Jack wash his face in the salty ocean, and then pad back up to her, his walk even more erratic in the early morning.  
  
She turned to walk towards the other pirates, but Jack caught her arm. He opened his mouth, and then winced.  
  
"What Jack?" She said, waiting for him patiently like one does with a child. There would never be any way to speed up Jack's thought process.  
  
"Come with me. I have to get something from the hoard." He looked sad, and Ana-Maria felt a pang of guilt. His grip on her hand was so tight, and she looked from it to his face again. Did he know about the medallion?  
  
"What?" She whispered.  
  
"I have to get something for Will and Elizabeth, to make it right." He said slowly and deliberately, not letting any of the details that he so wanted to share with her spill from his lips. Ana-Maria watched him searching for reassurance, and then nodded.  
  
"Okay. Lets go." Ana-Maria said unquestioningly.  
  
They picked through the gold of the cavern, the stolen treasures with histories and stories that they would never know which were lost to the world. Jack chucked each on with disinterest, inner turmoil obvious in his face. Ana-Maria sat on the cavern floor, waiting. She had tried helping to begin with, bringing him things she found pretty or expensive, but each one Jack had dismissed without a second glance.  
  
Eventually he found a velvet box, and on opening it he grinned, his gold teeth flashing in the early morning sun. Ana-Maria got up cautiously, and peered over his shoulder to see what Jack had deemed worthy.  
  
Four goblets, each embedded with jewels, one with deepest blue sapphires, the next diamonds, then blood rubies, and finally, emeralds.  
  
Ana-Maria drew her breath. Even from a quick glance, it was obvious they were worth a small fortune.  
  
"You would give them all to those land lovers?"  
  
"If it would make it right," He said. "I would give them the hoard." He turned, and made to move out of the cavern, Ana-Maria watching his back with mild reproof and shock on her face.  
  
"What did you do?" She asked, horror in her voice trying to imagine what could have broken such a strong friendship that had survived years of completely different lives and morals. Jack paused, his back to her.  
  
"What I never should have." He said quietly. She frowned, wanting to question him further, but there was rawness in his voice that she couldn't bare to here.  
  
They stepped out into the blinding sunlight, and Jack squinted, checking on the Pearl quickly. He was still forever paranoid that it would disappear, and with good cause. With the box under one arm and Ana-Maria under the other, he walked down the beach.  
  
Eventually she broke away, hiking up her skirt so that the little blue waves could wash her ankles. She was wading in up to mid thigh, laughing at each wave that hit her challengingly.  
  
Jack waited for her at the edge of this cove, knowing the other pirates would still be in a drunken stupor in the next beach over. He put the velvet box down beside him and sat down on the dunes of the beach. He pulled out a rum bottle, uncorking it, and tasting the sickeningly sweet taste of rum in the morning. He closed his eyes for a moment, so when he opened them everything seemed unusually bright and out of focus.  
Ana-Maria stood with her hands on her hips, her held tilted.  
  
"Come on, Captain Jack Sparrow, we have to get back to your ship." She held out a hand for him to get up, and he took it with the faintest glimpse of a smile on his face. She started walking before him, pulling her hair over one shoulder so that the wind couldn't play with it. He picked up his box, and then reached into his other pocket with his hand. He drew out something, and then strode to keep up with Ana. He slipped it into her hand unceremoniously, his head dipped towards the ground, his pirate hat shadowing his face.  
  
Ana-Maria felt the cool press of metal in her hand, and she raised her hand to look at it. It was small, a silver band with an ornate pattern of roses and thorns on the outside, speckled with diamonds.  
  
"Present." He said, but without the usual pride he had when he gave her presents.  
  
He'd done this before, snuck something out of the hoard for her, or of some rich woman's brow. Fancy necklace or elaborate crowns that he would dress her in, and then grinning, ravish her in.  
  
But this was different.  
  
"Is this from the hoard?" She said finally, trying to keep her voice calm and unemotional. Jack didn't answer; he shrugged, looking up at the sun as though trying to work out the time.  
  
Ana turned it over, and her eyes caught the engraving on the inside.  
  
The tiny shape of a sparrow worked into the inside of the ring, its wings spread in flight. It shimmered in the early morning sun.  
  
"Jack?" She realised she'd stopped walking, and he turned around.  
  
"What?" He asked guiltily, his eyes darting from side to side.  
  
She caught up with him in two quick strides. He flinched like she was going to slap him, but she just kissed one of his rough cheeks, smiling. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she kissed him slowy. He pushed the hair behind her ears with his hand, his eyes closed. They paused for a moment afterwards, their foreheads resting against each other, their eyes closed, sharing a breath.  
  
She unclasped the chain around her neck, sliding the ring down it, so that it fell between her breasts. Then they walked on, Ana-Maria feeling for the first time in years a blush forming on her brow.  
  
They walked in silence for a while, enjoying the morning. They could see the moving pirates in the distance. Jack pulled Ana-Maria close, his fingers on her hip, and he kissed her forehead.  
  
"No one else ever again, never. Tis what it means." He said abruptly. His lips brushed against her skin again and she swore that in his arms, she would always feel this. She wanted to ask him he meant she was never to have anyone else, or that he never would?  
  
Possessive or a yielding promise?  
  
She never could quite work out Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
Then Jack Sparrow broke away, raising his arms to wave to the struggling Gibbs who was walking towards them down the beach. Ana-Maria fingered the ring on its chained, tracing the pattern of the sparrow, claiming it as hers.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	16. Out of the Deep

Author note: Bad me, I shouldn't be updating, I should be studying. But I suddenly got inspiration for a much later scene so I got all inspired to write so I could get to that part. Thank you for those that yelled at me, I mean, off course I will finish it, I didn't say if, I said when, yes, looks very afraid, not but seriously, thank you. It's been a crappy week. And to some people, hem hem, Jackfan2, knowing my story lines, I'm getting to the ever after bit. But I like pulling the characters apart, so that you can see whether they have enough strength and love to put themselves back together. And if Ana and Jack can withstand this, they can withstand anything. Bring on the scary undead monsters; nothing will faze them after this.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack's dreams were of watery, shifting form. Flashes of a smiling woman, a beckoning hand, and blades clashed in battle, Barbossa's rotting corpse. In a pirate's life, the sights one beholds are neither pretty nor wholesome. They could scar a grown man and make a man of medicine vomit with disgust. Limbs could rot, turning sickly yellow and purple on a man, until its poisons spread through his body and ate into his soul.  
  
In Jack's dream, he lay on the beaches of his hometown in Mexico, his hands spread behind his head, staring at the sun. A woman, her eyes dark and her hair long, stepped into the light, and smiled down at him.  
  
"Ana-Maria." He said, and reached up for her. She fell forward, split down the middle. Jack fell back into the memory of the night she nearly died again, biting his tongue as he sliced his own skin, spilling his own blood to replace her own lost fluids. How she had convulsed in his arms, thrashing wildly so that he thought she would break her spin. She had reopened her wounds that night, blood covering the white sheets, while Jack had held her and Gibbs had placed the long metal of the blade into the hot fire.......  
  
Jack woke.  
  
The sun was rising, and he slumped back against his arms to watch it.  
  
Ana-Maria had left his side, and he felt the warm sand were she had lain.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Shit." Jack cursed. He stood on the beach, his hands resting on his waist, his expression defiantly pissed off. Ana-Maria paused from the crate she was lifting, coming to stand beside him. The other pirates also stopped, standing up right and trying to block the sun from their eyes.  
  
Another ship was pulling into the harbour, its black sails waving mournfully in the noon wind.  
"How the hell.." Gibbs started, his stomach protruding out from his waist in a distasteful fashion. He had his hand above his face, a perplexed expression forming.  
  
"I thought no one knew how to get there." Ana-Maria finished, licking her lips. She turned to Jack for an explanation, but he was already off down the beach, his hand straying near his gun, his face contorted with inner dialogue, his lips moving slightly.  
  
A rowboat was let down from the foreign ship, just one, with three or four men moving about in it. Rowing towards the beach. The giant ship rested about fifty metres away from the Pearl, the two ships silent on the sparkling waves. The name "The Left hand," was scripted onto the side of the boat.  
  
Jack Sparrow waited at the edge of the beachhead, while the rowboat advanced. Ana-Maria and most of the crew had followed him, all standing about ten metres behind Jack. Ana-Maria fingered the jewelled dagger at her belt.  
  
"Who the fuck is this Captain?" She asked defiantly, her eyes widening.  
  
If Jack had any thoughts on whom it was, he kept it to himself. He turned around, half smiling at her reassuringly, and then resuming watching the advancing rowboat.  
  
Three men got out, their clothes and outlandish outfits revealing them as pirates. One, the rower, was a thick black man; with a diamond studded ring though his gigantic lips. The one who got out of the boat first was smaller, with a wiry yet tanned muscular frame with a wash of shaggy blonde, brown hair and a small bottle hanging from a cord around his neck.  
  
Jack dipped his eyes, fingering his beard thoughtfully when seeing the third man.  
  
The third man was tall, his fingers long and his hair grown down to his shoulders, and he wore a plait on the left side of his face. He would have been about forty, but the fat of middle age that had so affected Gibbs had not touched this man, and his cheeks gave of a slightly hollow aspect. His skin was that of a white man touched by much sun, his eyes a dark cocoa brown.  
  
"Ana-Maria!" The smaller blonde man cried, jumping agilely off the boat, a grin crossing his face. Jack Sparrow spun around to look at her, as she opened her mouth with happy shock. She dashed forward, and the blonde man swept her up in his arms. Jack watched this display of affection without comment, raising his chin slightly and letting his gaze fall once again on the third man.  
  
"Tyler! I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you're alive." Ana-Maria said, putting him at arms length and beaming. "Last time I saw you, you were on some cooked up scheme about robbing English royals. How are you? God. Can't believe you're here." She shook her head with disbelief.  
  
"Good, lass, I've been good. How you been old mum?" Tyler said affectionately, disentangling himself from her. He nodded his head at Jack Sparrow, while Ana-Maria paused and fell silent; noticing for the first time the other man who had so caught Jack Sparrow's attention. Tyler herded her away; though she turned her head back, a dark shadow crossing her face. "Come on Oric, come for a walk with me and lady." He shouted to the black fellow, who nodded expressionlessly and fell in step with them.  
  
Ana-Maria paused, casting one look back at Jack Sparrow's expression, before allowing Tyler to lead her away.  
  
"Come on love, they've got a lot to talk about." Tyler whispered to her, pulling her along with him.  
  
"Jack Sparrow." The long haired man said, stepping cautiously forward. "Long time."  
  
"Aye." Jack replied, nodding, gazing at the sea. The man noticed this slight rejection and winced.  
  
"I deserve that."  
  
"You do." Jack agreed. "And you deserve a whole lot more too."  
  
"Now Jack.."  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow, now that I am it again." Jack almost snarled angrily.  
  
"You've made a name for yourself boy, but I always said you would." The man advanced slightly, his steps leaving soft leather footprints in the sand. The other pirates seemed to take this as their que, and they started breaking away, in groups of twos and threes, getting back to their work.  
  
"I'm not your boy anymore." Jack replied, meeting the man's eye for the first time. The absolute menace in Jack's eyes would have made any other man take a step back, but this one simply shrugged.  
  
"No you're not." The man sat down on the sand, groaning slightly at the soreness of his limbs. Jack stood obstinately, shaking his head slightly.  
  
"I think I've got something to thank you for Jack," The man said.  
  
"What?" Jack replied sourly. "Releasing you from that terrible curse or not shooting you on sight?"  
  
"You saved my boy, and I'm thankful. You looked after my boy like I haven't able to." Bootstrap Bill said honestly, pushing his long hair off his face.  
  
"I had my own motives."  
  
"Don't we always Jack?" Bill said, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. Jack growled at the familiarity of using his name, but Bill just shrugged. "But you did right by him all the same." He paused, and then continued. "And I'm going to thank you again when you take me to him."  
  
"To who? Barbossa?" Jack said confused.  
  
"My boy. When you take me to my boy."  
  
"Will." Jack spat, as though the word left a foul taste in his mouth. Jack rubbed his hands over his eyes, wondering why everything just got made that much more complicated.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
"Who's boat tis that?" Jack said finally. Turner got to his feet, dusting of his hands. He shrugged, kicking at the sand with his boots.  
  
"Is a friend."  
  
"A friend you bought to my hoard." Jack said dangerously. Turner squinted down at him with almost a look of disgust.  
  
"Jack, we used to be friends. We used to trust one another."  
  
"I haven't seen you in ten years, Turner. No trust lasts that long." Jack said quietly. Turner examined Jack's aged face as though seeing it for the first time. He shook his head.  
  
"I wouldn't have thought I'd hear that from you." Turner said softly.  
  
"Maybe I'm not as naïve as I was when we last met." Jack snarled, turning his back on the man, and stalking of down the beach. Turner followed him.  
  
"Maybe, but are you not the man who held one bullet for ten years to shoot Barbossa, or was that another Jack?" Jack stoped and rolled his eyes. He turned on his heels and dipped his head to the left.  
  
"T'was different. That was revenge." He waved his hands to emphasis his point. Turner remained serene, ignoring Jack's antics and agitation.  
  
"You loved the Pearl for ten years." Turner persisted.  
  
"Inanimate object. Not the same my dear pirate." Jack said proudly, for the first time finding a situation where he could use the word inanimate. He raised his rum to his lips.  
  
"Ana-Maria?" Turner tried triumphantly. Jack half spluttered and then swallowed slowly as if in pain. Jack refused to meet Turner's eye. "Ten years Jack, you chased when I first new you, and you chase her still."  
  
"Maybe I caught her." Jack snapped. Turner chuckled, his long hair flapping around his face.  
  
"That one? You'll never truly catch her."  
  
"How would you know?" Jack said suddenly angry. That last comment had cut to close to the bone, though Turner did not know it.  
  
"Because I know you, and I've known her since she was girl. You're still the same Jack I knew, and you still share the same loves. We were friends once, but I'm not asking that of you." Bootstrap said quietly.  
  
"Aye." Jack said, glowering at his shoes. Bootstrap played with his cigar, tapping its grey ash onto the ground.  
  
"The ship belongs to a friend, her name is Eve."  
  
"Female?" Jack said with slight reproof. Turner shrugged again.  
  
"Yes, but the ship deals mainly in privateering and smuggling. The woman has no taste for plundering." Turner then broke into a grin. "And she's right superstitious. Afraid of the Black Pearl, and says Barbossa's ghost haunts it still."  
  
"Really?" Jack grinned, and shook his head. "Seems I'll never be rid of the bastard." Turner bowed his head, tipping his hat.  
  
"So he is dead." Turner said softly. He sighed.  
  
"Aye." Jack gave Turner a long look. "You would mourn him?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"He sent you to the briny deep by your bootstraps." Jack said thoughtfully, watching Bootstraps face with sudden keen interest.  
  
"You killed him. He betrayed you and left you to die." Turner returned. He paused, looking out to the two ships in the harbour, drawing on the strength of the wind. "But you mourn for him."  
  
"Aye." Jack said, lighting a smoke and passing it to Turner. "Come, I'll take you to his grave."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	17. Beginnings of the end

Author Note: Wow, long chap, hey hons you know the drill, read and review or I will cry a lot of tears. AND I would like to say a big THANK YOU TO JACK FAN2, you know you're a legend, thank you for making this little loner writer feel all important.. PLEASE REVIEW, and I will write faster and not study. Cookies all around! Arg, exam in two weeks, lalalala, I'm not listening.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The crew of the Left hand had come ashore, a group of pirates as motley and diverse as Jack's own. With two women aboard the ship, Jack had been on his guard to keep his own men in tow. However, that had been quite unnecessary as it soon became obvious to all but maybe the thickest pirates as to exactly where Eve and her female pirate's interest lay.  
  
Jack had took a long time processing this, watching the two woman exchange glances across the fire, and both of them taking time to check out Ana-Maria. Jack couldn't work out if he felt protective of Ana-Maria, disgusted, aroused or sad because he would never ever bed either of those women.  
  
"Tis bloody unnatural," Gibbs said with a shake of the head. Ana- Maria had turned on him, her fists ready at her sides.  
  
"Why Gibbs? Because they are female pirates? Women make bloody better pirates then you, you bloody oaf." She said viciously, and though Gibbs towered above her, he visible cringed beneath her gaze.  
  
"No, I've got nothing against you Ana," He said quickly. Ana cut him off snakily.  
  
"Oh then you think a woman shouldn't be captain? I was Captain for...." Jack leant down and whispered something in her ear, and she broke off, confusion dawning on her face.  
  
"They're what?" She spun around on Jack. He nodded condescendingly. She looked back at the fire, where Eve leant over to remove with her thumb a scrap of food from her lover's lips.  
  
Jack explained to Ana-Maria and she looked on them with new respect.  
  
"You can do that? I...." Then she blushed, and looked from Jack to Gibbs. "I just don't think it would work, how, it just.... just wouldn't work." She stuttered, and then strode off, not meeting anyone's eye.  
  
Gibbs and Jack kept in their laughter.  
  
"She's obviously never been to the parts of Singapore we have." Gibbs said, nudging Jack's ribs. Jack grinned remembering, stroking his beard.  
  
"Ah, there's many a fine things you can find in Singapore."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The other pirates hollered around a meek fire, singing and trading war stories with a bottle of rum and fresh flesh from the Left Hands hull. The day deepened, and a wind picked up, blowing sand into the pirates' eyes and hair, and scattering the conversations so that they were broke words loose in the dying afternoon.  
  
Jack sat on a wooden stool around an erected table on the part of the beach where the sand was hard and cool beneath your touch. Ana-Maria was oddly affectionate that day, allowing Jack to coil his arm around her waist so that she leant heavily on his body, drawing warmth and support from him as she stood gazing out to sea. He closed his eyes, and smelt the warm vanilla scent of her body. How could she smell like white vanilla, when her skin was melted mocha? She leant close enough to feel the sway of his body and the sickening alcohol on his breath.  
  
Isabel, Eve's lover, spoke no English, and she was a dark Spanish pirate who contrasted strongly with the blonde and petit woman Eve, who drank enough to stun most of the men and cause Jack to watch her wistfully.  
  
Turner did not drink, nor did he eat much. Jack could see the ribs through his skin when the old man took of his shirt to swim, and lazily lay on his back, gazing up at the sun. Only occasionally, did it seem Turner came alive, bounding beneath the sun's kiss with all the joy of a child. Yet his eyes still were distant, and he joined Jack, Eve and Gibbs's for a card game, but did not have the thirst for sweet Tequila that Jack remembered or the heavy laugh.  
  
"A royal set," Eve said proudly, laying out her cards. Jack looked at the blearily, and shrugged. They were not playing for money, so what did he care. His fingers rubbed the skin of Ana-Maria's hip, and she nodded down at him absentmindedly.  
  
"Ah, bloody hell." Turner mumbled.  
  
"Turner has no skill at cards Jack, has he ever had any?" Eve said in her strangely clipped English. Her lover rested at her feet, watching the pirates with mild interest, allowing Eve to occasionally run her hands through her hair.  
  
"Not as long as I've known him," Jack said with a shrug. "But Ana- Maria's known him longer then I." Eve looked slightly bewildered. She pointed at the black girl.  
  
"You also friends with Turner?" She asked, throwing in a Spanish word that Jack could not catch. Ana-Maria looked at the blonde woman, a flicker of dislike passing across her face, and then resumed looking out to sea.  
  
"He manned my father's ship with me, yes."  
  
"I've known her since she was a babe in her fathers arms." Turner said quietly.  
  
"But you came to see Jack? You only greeted Jack?" Eve said curiously. She looked from one face to another, noticing Jack's apparent concentration on his cards and Turner's sad look. Ana-Maria's expression could not be from the angle of her face, and sunlight played across her face warily. "This is a complex background I see. Turner simply told me Jack and him came together stealing a ship,"  
  
"My ship." Ana-Maria interjected. Eve took a double take. She laughed, her hand flying up to her throat. Her lover looked around, the tension obvious, and she asked something of Eve, her tone obviously quizzical.  
  
"Your ship? Ah, the Portella was yours. Then you are our Jack's Black Pearl." She said quickly, and laughed. "Oh, bien, I should have seen it earlier." She clapped her hands together, and answered Isabel in a elaborate buzz of the foreign language.  
  
Ana-Maria turned to Jack, who was waving his hands appalled, chocking on his rum.  
  
"No, no no no no!" He said spluttered. He let go of Ana-Maria quickly, leaning forward. "She's not... The ships name got nothing to do with her, not even connected, I mean Ana-Maria's ain't my pearl."  
  
"What?" Ana-Maria turned on him indignantly. "I'm not your pearl?" She said dangerously. Jack raised his hands, suddenly afraid at the wraith of the little black girl, and tried to look meek.  
  
"Well. I mean.." He started, with Ana-Maria looked decidedly unresponsive. The Spanish girl giggled. Then someone grabbed Ana-Maria from behind, holstering her frail from over their shoulder. Ana-Maria's eyes widened and she started kicked. Jack jumped up, his hand resting on his gun.  
  
"Tyler!" Ana-Maria squealed. The blonde man dropped her into the waves, and she hollered at him, dripping wet, she tackled him, dragging her under the water with her. They cavorted in the water, splashing each other like children.  
  
Jack Sparrow stood, his hand still on his gun, a flicker of worry passing across his face.  
  
The two emerged from the water, Ana-Maria's shirt sticking revealingly to her body, and Tyler placed his arm over her shoulder, dripping water onto her. That she did not shun his touch upset Jack even more.  
  
Tyler grinned at Jack mischievously, and the tension broke, as Jack realised he was making an arse out of himself. He sat back down, picking up his cards as though nothing had happened.  
  
"So how'd you two meet?" Gibbs's asked, as it had become apparent that Ana and this man were extremely close. Tyler collapsed on the sand slightly outside the circle, while Ana leant her chin on Jack's head, dripping water over him. He yelped, but when she tried to move, he grabbed her wrist firmly so that she could not stray far.  
  
"Ana and I have been friends a long time." Tyler said smiling, resting on his hunches. "We met, what, six years ago?" He cocked his head for confirmation. Ana placed her hands on her hips, catching her breath and nodded.  
  
"Six years ago last Christmas." Ana-Maria agreed.  
  
"Met on a smuggling expedition, just south of Cancun." He grinned. "Ana was dressed as a man when I first met her, a real prize she was too. Had some of the finest gems I've ever seen on her person."  
  
"You were a gem thief?" Eve asked curiously. Ana shrugged.  
  
"What, you never heard of Ana?" Tyler said disbelievingly. "She was one of the best. She was known as the Black Whore back then, had a real name for herself in Tortugua, best connections a man could ask for."  
  
"And you bloody did ask for them to ya cheeky bugger." Ana-Maria said with a laugh, flicking her wet hair over one shoulder and wringing it out. Tyler stuck out his tongue.  
  
"We ended up bloody shipwrecked on some godforsaken gospel town in Puerto Rico, and had to pretend we were a married couple for what was it Ana, eight months, until Ana-Maria here managed to pull off the steal of the centaury, and diamond as fat as your hand." He said wistfully. "We parted ways after that," He said with a sad shrug, which told more then words that this was not all to the story. "And a year later, I hear she's to be hanged in Antigua. How did you get out of that?"  
  
"I saved her, mate." Jack said, with a slightly insulting tone. He turned to Ana. "Married couple, eh?" He said. "Never told me about that."  
  
"Jealous?"  
  
"Should I be?" He growled.  
  
"I was there, in Antigua." Turner suddenly said. He had been gazing at his hand. The others turned on him, looking at him curiously.  
  
"How long?" Jack said. Turner looked at him solemnly, knowing what Jack was about to say. "How long since you crawled out of David Jone's locker?"  
  
"Seven years." Turner said quietly. Jack looked at him as if to ask Why now? "I was blown to bits, by the time I, well, by the time I was whole, my skin... I lived for two years under the waves, watching them, not able to..." He broke off and shivered.  
  
"Why didn't you find me?" Jack said suddenly. "Why didn't you find Will then?" Eve was translating the conversation softly to Isabel, and Ana-Maria watched the interchange with distaste. Her fingers rubbed her collarbone.  
  
"Because a man doesn't come out of the sea with his senses or whole. My skin had been eaten away by fish, my bones bleached white in only the way Barbossa or any of that dreaded crew could know. I watched my body rot and could not feel a thing. A man does not just get over that." Turner said angrily, and then pushed back his chair abruptly.  
  
"I was there, in Antigua, and could barely believe my eyes to see Ana-Maria there, who I hadn't seen since you and I betrayed her. Then I see you, in all your glory, bursting out of the crowd, rescuing her. It was the first time I hoped again. Hope is something you can survive without Jack, but you can't live without it. You think you know what it was like with that curse?" He asked, his last words becoming a whisper. Ana-Maria drew a slight breath, watching him with unwavering dark eyes.  
  
"You think you can imagine not having any purpose, knowing everything you've lost, because we took the Pearl from you Jack? Wait till every breath you take tastes like stale rot, and you live with every second knowing that there will be a million more and that you can never ever feel those things again, the brush of fabric against your cloth, or the taste of fresh food in your mouth, because everything is ash and dirt and poisoned by your greed. Did Barbossa explain that to you?"  
  
"Turner?" Eve said, rising. "Are you okay?" But Turner's eyes drilled into Jacks.  
  
"And now I'm drowning in these senses you take for granted. You gave them back to me. I wanted to thank you, but you won't let me. Now all I want is to see my boy, to know he's strong and happy and that I did something right in my life."  
  
"I'll take you to him, I will." Jack said quietly.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Port Royal?" Gibbs asked as they packed up the boats. The Left Hand was already a dot shimmering on the horizon. Jack stood at the helm, watching the activity on deck. Turner, Tyler and the black fellow Oric had stayed. Ana-Maria languished by the side of the ship, her hands waving animatedly as she talked to Tyler. Oric was silently concentrating on tying knots in the long ropes of the sails, his diamond stud glistening in the early morning light.  
  
Turner alone seemed to do very little. Jack watched him with avid interest, at the change in the old man's demeanour, the fragility's of his body, and the unruliness of his hair. Worries were forming in Jack's mind, and not just about his own reception at the Turner's house in Port Royal, but at Bootstraps mental state.  
  
"Yes, on, on, to Port Royal my dear fat man." Jack said slowly, and then realising Gibbs had already stumped away. Jacks fingers strummed the wheel, and he whistled through his teeth.  
  
His eyes were almost magnetically drawn to Ana-Maria and Tyler again. She was smiling, the sun caressing her hair, which was freshly washed. Static dead ends rose from the black sheen that fell down to her waist. A deepened purple scarf was tied around her waist, and silver hoops dipped from her ears. He saw the glint of his ring around her neck, the sparkle of diamonds that lay just below the surface of her buttoned shirt, and sighed.  
  
For now, all was right in the world. She was his.  
  
But he knew he was skating on thin ice, as one says.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	18. Liar

* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Ana-Maria?" He whispered, sitting down on the end of her bed. He reached out in the darkness, his hand resting on the coarse woollen blanket that covered her upper thigh. He stopped his hand from stroking the skin there. He could hear her breathing, but he would not be calmed by that tonight.  
  
He needed her voice.  
  
She sat upright in bed, jolting away from his hand, flickering on the light. Jack tipped his hat at her welcomingly.  
  
The look of blank recognition in her eyes scared him. For a second, her eyes fell on his face with all the bland friendliness one gives to a shop assistant. Then she blinked, and her eyes softened with sleepiness and the warm comfort of sleep. She pulled him to her, kissing him softly, slowly, bringing him till he rested above her.  
  
She ran her fingers up over his forehead into his knotted hair so that his hat feel back of his head and onto his back. He was surprised to find her naked under the sheets, and he pulled away slightly, the coarse blanket still pressed heavily between them.  
  
"Where are your clothes?" He asked sharply, suddenly jealous. She gave him a guilty look. "Has Tyler been here?" He said before he could stop himself. Ana-Maria gave him a long look, and then shoved him off with disgust.  
  
"Of course not." She said, drawing her shirt on, covering the tattoo on her back from sight again. Jack could see the barest bits of it poking out from at the base of her spine where the shirt had folded up. She adjusted her collar, rising from the bed.  
  
She didn't want to explain to Jack how she had been trying to remember what it felt like to have cloth against your skin. She was trying to remember the sensuousness of being naked in a bed, and how good it felt to have coarse material against the slippery skin of her body.  
  
She was trying to remember feeling.  
  
Even though she could feel the sheets, and the wind and almost pick out the hum of the stars like any pirate could on these warm summer nights, she couldn't FEEL them. She could recognise their presence, but it was as though the world passed straight into her brain without touching her body.  
  
Maybe she was going mad.  
  
She shivered at that thought, and spun around.  
  
Jack had his hand on his waist thoughtfully. He stood up, and stroked her cheek.  
  
"You okay love?" He said suddenly. "We okay?" She wanted to nod and tell him how much she loved him like she used to. But suddenly all those declarations seemed just a little to fake, a little unreal and distant.  
  
She cocked her head to the side, and beckoned him closer. She hooked her hand on his belt, drawing him closer. Her other arm coiled up around his neck, forcing his head down to meet her kiss.  
  
They fell silently back into bed together. Jack kissed her throat and her collarbone, his fingers tracing the patterns of her ribs, the rise and the fall. Ana-Maria closed her eyes, focusing hard on his touch, on the scratch of his beard against her skin, on the drag of his nails across her ribs, on the clang of his beads.  
  
Jack paused, drawing away from her.  
  
She lay beneath him, under the flickering light of the candle, silent and quiet. His eyes flashed with a sudden recognition, a de ja vous of making love to another woman.  
  
Of, what had he called it? Trying to melt the ice that formed around her heart.  
  
It seemed that Jack was once again trying to mend his women with kisses and his touches, trying to fix things with his hands instead of his words.  
  
How many times would he fail before he realised how very wrong he was.  
  
He made love to Ana-Maria that night like he had made love to Elizabeth.  
  
In the morning he rose, pulling back the rough curtains of her room, covering her body with the blanket. He paused, gazing down at her sleeping form in her tiny cot, her arms raised protectively around her head. She murmured as she slept.  
  
She had bad dreams.  
  
He went to his cabin, and in those early hours of the morning, drank himself into a broken, sorry stupor, and was alone in a way he hadn't been since he'd been since he'd reclaimed the Pearl.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It was early morning, and Ana-Maria sat in the crows nest. At dawn, as the moon disappeared, Ana-Maria had reached up, feeling her skin wrapt itself around her bones again. It was never a feeling she would get used to. Now her hair was sweet smelling and clean again, the skeleton underneath her clothes hidden by a layer of soft brown skin.  
  
She heard someone climbing the riggings, the occasional grunt and curse as the wind blew the coarse ropes beneath the persons grip.  
  
Tyler swung into the crows' nest, his wiry body allowing him to do this gracefully. Jack would have fallen over.  
  
"Morning" He said, nodded at her. His blonde hair fell across his eyes in the way Ana-Maria had found so becoming those years ago.  
  
She remembered those eight months they had spent as a 'married couple', the way he had touched her hips, the way he sighed in bed. One night they had stumbled out of the town bar, their hands draped around each other, and he had pushed her up against the wall in an alley because he couldn't wait to get home.  
  
"Tyler. Hows it going?" She asked, placing her hand over her eyes, the sun nearly blinding her. He shrugged, gazing out to sea, the hint of a smile on his face.  
  
"You know what I was thinking about last night?" He said suddenly. Ana- Maria shook her head passively. "I was thinking about what a team we made. You know," He got a glint in his eyes now, and his fingers looped around the edge of his pants as he talked. "You know old Panama? It's a great little set up down there at the moment, sweet for smuggling. Together, think of what we could do. Those rich white shmucks from the old country never know what hit em. You could get back in the gem stealing game,"  
  
"I'm here now." She said slowly. "Me and the Pearl and.." She paused.  
  
"And Jack." Tyler said, looking down. He sat down, crossing his legs, so that his eyes were level with her. "Hon, I've been down on the French coast for a few years now, doing this and that, but when I met up with Bootstrap," He sucked his lips and shook his head. "When he mentioned your name, it was just so tempting. So tempting to come find you." He shook his head.  
  
Ana-Maria gazed down at her hands.  
  
"We were such a sweet team back in the days, and to tell ya the truth, I miss ya." He said almost apologetically. "And I know your with Jack now, but.... I know you're not happy. Something out here is killing you, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I think it's that man. Maria, remember how happy we made each other?"  
  
"Was a long time ago, Tyler." Ana-Maria said unenthusiastically.  
  
"I know, but there's no one else like you out there Maria. I still love you, and I know you didn't want to hear that six years ago," He gave her a long look.  
  
"I'm sorry for what I said back then."  
  
"That you couldn't love me?" Tyler said suddenly, looking up through his golden fringe. Ana-Maria shrugged wearily.  
"For everything." Tyler smiled weakly as though slightly disappointed. "But you know its never been about the money for me, none of this ever really has. It's about the ocean. We saw eye to eye on that six years ago, why would we now?" She asked.  
  
"I was hoping things would be different now, Maria. I just... I want you back in my life, in my thoughts and my heart, and back in my bed. That's the truth. And if you say you love this Jack Sparrow, then I'll take comfort in the fact that you can love, and it'll make me hope."  
  
"Tyler.." She started apologetically. He got up abruptly.  
  
"Just think about it, okay? Promise me you'll think about what I've said." He clambered over the edge of the wooden sides, and proceeded to climb down the ropes. Ana-Maria watched the rising sun, glaring straight at the burning ball, never looking away.  
  
Tyler jumped the last bit, landing at the feet of Jack Sparrow. He fell a step back, and was met with a look of deepest mistrust from Jack. Jack only had one eye done in kohl, and looked unusually naked on half his face.  
  
"Top of the morning to ya." Tyler said, and then made to walk away. Jack caught him on the chest with one hand. He pointed upwards with the other.  
  
"You try and get her away from me one more time, I'll make sure can never go to bed with another woman again. You understand me, boyo? I'm captain of this ship, and I'm starting to take a dislike to you. Think about that." He said with a neutral tone. Tyler raised his had in a defeated way.  
  
"Was only talking to the lady." Tyler said, and moved past Jack.  
  
Jack continued staring towards the crow nest, anxiety evident on his face. From above, the Ana-Maria shouted.  
  
"Land a hoy! Port Royal in sight Captain!"  
  
"Top of the morning to you. oh la di da, I'll give you a top of the morning, how bout I whack you off the bloody ship." Jack muttered, making his way to the helm.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	19. Reoffender

Author note: If any of Jack and Ana's lines sound just a little bit familiar, heh, that's because I wrote it listening to my break up Cd (What do you mean you don't have a break up cd, its very important to have a break up Cd). Don't sue me, cuz I only have a bean and you can't have my bean. * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"He works here, at the blacksmiths." Jack said finally. He had been quiet the whole journey through the jungle, though it had been barely noticeable because of the curses and the vulgar jokes of the other pirates. Jack, though he hadn't turned around to check, also had the sinking feeling that Ana-Maria had come ashore, against his orders and all.  
  
He'd just have to punish her later for that.  
  
Jack sauntered slowly into the blacksmith, his head darting to the side as he stepped. Would not be unlike Will to launch a blade at Jacks head, Jack thought guiltily. He really had to learn how Will did that.  
  
At the forge, a figure sat in the pale light of the morning. A damp looking ponytail curled down their neck, a large white shirt hanging of their shoulders. Dark brown neatly cut pants that looked like someone had slaved over mending them, which ended around firm calves.  
  
"Will?" Jack said quizzically, confusion on his face. He tilted his head.  
  
He had not expected the jubilant welcome of last time. He would have been surprised if he'd received a smile.  
  
Elizabeth spun around quickly, her wide brown eyes startled. She jumped off the chair, smoothing down her shirt. As she stepped into the sunlight, the blonde streaks in her wet hair could be seen.  
  
"I know, it's so easy to mistake us sometimes isn't it? I've always had such a boyish figure." She laughed, and then shook her head, as though dismissing the tears in her eyes. "Jack, it's so good to see you." She said, and beckoned him over.  
  
He gave her a gruff hug, and then stepped away politely. She nodded at this lack of intimacy, and shrugged.  
  
"It is good to see you, Jack, even after all that's happened." Jack fumbled with the box he held crooked under one arm, flipping it open to reveal the goblets within.  
  
"It's a present." He said slightly embarrassed. Now that he was here, the whole idea sounded very stupid. Elizabeth smiled faintly, and took them.  
  
"They're beautiful Jack." She said, running her hand over the gold. "They really are." She took the box from him, and moved to set it down on Will's work bench. Jack fidgeted.  
  
"Isn't strange. We used to be such good friends, and now we can barely say more then a few words. Why is that Jack?" Elizabeth said, stroking the top of the velvet box. Jack shrugged. Elizabeth turned, placing her hands on the edge of the table and leaning on them.  
  
"I suppose you're here to see Will." She said obliquely.  
  
"I am, love, but I wanted to see you too." He agreed. She gave him a sad look.  
  
"I always knew that really you were his friend, and not mine. I was just..." She paused, raising her hands and smiling. "I was the lass to be saved wasn't I? The girl. For a while, I wondered if I didn't sleep with you to try and get closer to Will in some bizarre way." She laughed mockingly and looked away.  
  
Jack looked towards the door, where he knew Turner was standing. He heard a muffled in take of breath and hung his head. Turner would have to know eventually, have to know why Will now saw Jack as the enemy. "You and him, well, you bought something out in him that I never could have." Elizabeth continued.  
  
"All I did love was piss him off." Jack said distractedly. It was true. Jack broke all the rules that Will abided by, and not only was such a person infuriating, but also in some ways intoxicating for Will.  
  
But behind that anger, there was passion, and behind that, the deepest trust.  
  
"He's gone you know." She held up her hand, her beautiful, manicured, polished, ring less hand. "He divorced me. Went back to England. Said he couldn't be with me after what I'd done."  
  
"Love I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's too late for sorrys." She said, turning away to look at Jack's gift. "I thought that our love could outlast anything. We'd overcome so much, different classes, my father's disapproval, pirates and monsters and battles to the death. How could that one afternoon in summer destroy that so quickly?" Jack was barely listening to her now, and her voice grew faint.  
  
"I have to find him." Jack said, and made as though to leave. He stopped and put his hand on her shoulder. "Come with me, we'll find him. We'll bring him to his senses." Elizabeth put her hand on Jack's cheek and smiled softly. Her brown eyes looked at him, at the pride and the determination in his eyes, and for a moment she regretted. She regretted not falling in love with this wild pirate all those years ago, and really giving herself to love. To giving up everything she held dear, for this pirate who the wind and the waves could not weather.  
  
He was worth a million jewels.  
  
"Jack, I'm engaged to father's new general." She said softly. "His wife died last year, and he asked me to marry him. My father said it would be for the best." Her last few words revealed more then her other words. Jack clasped her small hands in his, kissing her hand.  
  
"Do not marry him, not until I come back. I'll bring Will with me, I sware it." He said softly. Elizabeth looked at him as if through a haze of thick smoke. She tilted her long neck, and stole one kiss from the pirate's lips.  
  
"I wanted to remember what that was like." She said. Jack eyes clouded with confusion. "Go Jack, find my love, and tell I am still waiting. Tell him, tell him that without him, I walk beneath a sun which is but a shadowed moon."  
  
Then she turned away, and sniffed rather in a rather unladylike fashion. She touched the velvet box again.  
  
"Thanks for this Jack."  
  
He turned, leaving the blacksmith without another word. He pushed open the door, dazed by the brightness of the Caribbean morning. He stepped forward, and looked up into the faces of Ana-Maria and Turner. He waited for Ana- Maria to slap him, for Turner to spit on his name.  
  
He dropped his head as Ana-Maria spun and half walked, half ran away from him. Her hair fell down her back in soft ringlets, still wet from the morning when Jack had dunked her beneath the sea water and kissed her on Port Royal's beaches.  
  
Turner simply closed the blacksmith's door and shrugged.  
  
"Find my boy. I don't care what you've done, Sparrow. I just want my boy." Turner said with a voice of icy steel. Whatever attempts there had been at rekindling that friendship were over.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
They set sail that day, having been but only a few hours anchored. Jack saw the his black wench talking to Tyler, carving a piece of wood with all the anger that seemed to be pent up in her little body. Tyler craned over her, talking fast and thick to her, his blonde hair flopping over his eyes in that obnoxious way that Jack had begun to hate.  
  
"Damn pretty boy." He muttered, casting the blonde a black look. Turner walked beside Jack unperturbed. It seemed nothing would faze him these days, and he was a quiet man as he had never been when Jack was younger.  
  
That night, Jack stumbled into his cabin to find Ana-Maria sitting on his bed, her eyes watchful and sharp. She was not wearing her white slip, but was still dressed. The curtains were drawn tight to keep out the night air, and the fire was dying the hearth. The night was still warm, but Ana- Maria wore her thick woollen jacket over her clothing.  
  
Jack pulled up his chair so he sat facing opposite her. She shifted, her legs crossed on the bed.  
  
"You slept with Elizabeth." She said, a quiet blank statement. Jack nodded. She paused, pursing her lips. "Last time we were here, you slept with Elizabeth. She was the woman who gave you the," She gestured to his neck, where the purpling bruise had long since faded.  
  
"Aye." Jack said. "But you knew I spent that night with a woman. You forgave me Ana." He said wearily, reaching for her hand. He needed the touch of her skin on hers, he needed her, for this night would be long indeed.  
  
"I didn't know you spent it with Elizabeth." She snapped, moving away from his touch.  
  
" Does it make a difference?" He raised his hands entreatingly, leaning forward. She crossed her arms across her chest, and looked at him disbelievingly.  
  
"Of course it makes a difference."  
  
"Why?" Jack asked, truly perplexed.  
  
"Because it wasn't a whore Jack. It wasn't some random fuck. It was a woman you care for and respect." She said angrily. How could he not understand this? "That is infinitely more of a betrayal to me then a woman you feel no emotional attachment to. You know that."  
  
"Ana I didn't..." He started. She cut him off.  
  
"Of course you did. You knew how much this would hurt me. Elizabeth is the only woman other then me that you remember the first name of."  
  
"Ana.."  
  
"And if you didn't know it was wrong, why didn't you tell me what happened? You didn't tell me because you knew I would be mad." She concluded, her hands folded in her lap.  
  
"Well if you told me what was going on, I be more inclined to fill you in." Jack snapped back, hating the calm way she was talking. This was not his Ana. His Ana would have ranted and raved, have thrown things at him, have taken a knife to his most prized possession (by which I mean his hat, okay she's not insane enough to take it to OTHER things Jack might prize.). His Ana would have fought with him till punches turned to kisses and insults to sighs.  
  
"Ana, please tell me what's wrong with us." He almost moaned, putting his head in his hands. "Tell what to do to make this right."  
  
"You shouldn't have slept with her." She said harshly. Jack paused, gazing at his dirt encrusting fingers.  
  
"Things have been wrong before that happened. Things were getting so fucked up between us, sometimes it was like you weren't even there.."  
  
"So it's my fault you fucked that blonde whore?"  
  
"No, Ana, I'm not saying it was your fault. The fault was mine and mine alone. It was nothing to do with her, or you, but.." He paused, looking at Ana and he shook his head, helpless in the face of her icy composure.  
  
"I think." She paused, and took in a breath. "Jack, I didn't think anything could ever hurt me like this now." She let those words hang in the air, letting him take his own meaning from them.  
  
"Please forgive me, I never meant to hurt you." He said, the words falling desperately off his tongue. She bated them away, ignoring them. If she could just focus on the feeling of her nail digging into her hand, she could bear this.  
  
It hurt.  
  
It seemed that love does not reside just in the body, but in the mind also.  
  
"Maybe we need some time alone."  
  
"You know, you know this though." He hit his chest to emphasis what this he meant. "You know this about me. You know I'm a liar, you know.." He floundered for words.  
  
"I know you'll say that you'll never do it again. But you will, you do it again. I'm fooling myself Jack. But that's not even the issue anyway." She shook her head, and, to distract herself, she pulled her long black hair into a tight ponytail.  
  
"What you want me to say?" Sparrow asked.  
  
"Say you love me and you'll never do it again." She gave him a long look. He opened his mouth to speak and she batted it away again. "Jack, it's getting so hard just to breath these days. Maybe we," She looked upwards, for guidance from some higher power. She didn't want to look at his face and feel nothing. She didn't want this to be her. "Need some time alone." She finished.  
  
"Stop this." He ordered. "Stop saying that. Look," He reached forward, and grabbed her hand. She looked down at his hand touching hers and felt nothing. "Let me make this very clear to you. You're the most important thing to me. You say you can't breathe? I'm here, I'm breathing, and I can breathe for the two of us. You want to leave because this relationship's failing?" He asked. She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. "I never promised clear skies and smooth sailing, but stay with me through this storm. I know it's never been easy to love someone like me, but please don't leave me."  
  
It was the most he'd ever said, the truest he'd ever truly spoken.  
  
But she couldn't hear him.  
  
"I'm sorry Jack." She took her hand from his. She got up, brushing past him as she moved to the door. "No," He swore. "No, Ana-Maria don't do this." But she wasn't listening anymore, and she was halfway across the room from him. The gap between them grew.  
  
"We're pirates, Jack." She said quietly. "Nothing lasts forever for us Jack."  
  
"We did. We never changed." He swore vehemently.  
  
"I still love you. Does that matter?" She sadly. Her eyes drilled into the back of his head, her neck arched as she looked back at him.  
  
"No. It doesn't matter if you're going to leave anyway." He said with his back turned to her.  
  
Then she slipped away as quietly as a wraith, as though she never been there.  
  
The door didn't even creak as she closed it.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
After that, for Jack, things became much simpler.  
  
Everything was coated in a wash of rum, tobacco and the best marijuana you could buy. He spent his days rolling his mixtures in thin black papers, his tongue licking them absentmindedly, striking matches on the walls of his cabin, flicking them against the floor that lurched beneath his feet.  
  
Jack drowned his sorrows out on the open seas, standing day and night by the helm, his bedraggled figure all the more lonesome. Some days he would forget to wear kohl around his eyes.  
  
That's how serious things were.  
  
He smoked so much that sometimes it seemed as though the whole world was awash in faint blue water, and that he was drowning, drowning all the time.  
  
And then they got to England.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	20. The Waiting time

* * * * * * * * * * * *  
Things were falling faster into place now. The storm was coming. The wind had risen and Jack was being beaten back.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Will lay back on the red leather couches, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. White cobwebs spanned across the wooden roof, but he did not see them. Smoke filled the air, and men and women laughed as they touched and caressed. Other people, like him, gazed in a drugged daze at the world. One girl, her body pierced and beautiful with youth, lay all but naked on a glass table, her mouth moving silently.  
  
As Will turned his head to look at her, it was as if she had a million mouths, each one whispering her name over and over again.  
  
Elizabeth.  
  
He could see her long blonde hair caught in the wind, her mouth as it had been, puckered with beauty and youth, not smeared with blood as it had been when he left her.  
  
He had used his hand against the woman he loved on that one disastrous night.  
  
It seemed that the world was covered in the silky green layer for Will, and he lay back, letting his senses be overwhelmed.  
  
Jack pushed back the flap at the door, pressing a gold coin into one tight-lipped woman's hand. Turner waved away a pipe offered him, his face mild. He looked at the customers with disinterest.  
  
Jack spat on the ground.  
  
"Opium den." Jack pulled the woman aside, describing Will to her. His description was obviously very good, though all Turner heard of it was 'with a pole shoved up..'.  
  
Jack looked down mournfully at his young friend, who clasped an empty opium pipe in one hand. The boy looked so innocent still in this drugged state, to blissfully happy and so very far away. Jack wanted to pull him out of here, out of this den of debauchery and sin. For this was a place for the Jack Sparrows, for the wanderers of the night. T'was not for Will Turner, nor should it ever have been.  
  
But who was Jack to judge where Will found his happiness.  
  
He had already stripped him of it once; he would not do so again.  
  
"This is the boy, Turner."  
  
"A fine state you've left him in, Sparrow." Turner said, gazing down for the first time in over ten years at his boy.  
  
"Here." Jack said, handing Turner a bag of coin. "Give him Elizabeth's message, and send me a messenger with his answer by dawn."  
  
"You're not going to stay." Turner grabbed his shoulder. "Stay. He needs you, more then he needs me." Jack pushed him off, so that Turner slammed against the ornate pillar. Jack then winced, and turned away.  
  
"No. I can't. Look what I've reduced him too." Jack said sternly. He looked down at Will's un-responding face, at the slowness of this breath, and he could have wept. He would kill everyone in this room if it would bring back the happy boy who had innocently smoked with him on the beaches of Port Royal.  
  
Jack pulled his black cloak tighter to him, and turned away.  
  
"Tell him, or don't tell him her message. I don't care. But don't tell him I was here. Tell him that her fathers forcing her to marry again. Tell him.." Jack looked around, and swore, cursing this place, this stupid boy, and mostly himself. "Bloody hell Turner, just tell him she loves him still."  
  
"And if he loves her still? If he can forgive her?" Turner said slowly. His eyes spoke what neither of them would say. If he can forgive her, surely he can forgive you.  
  
"If he forgives her, I will bear him back to her and then never see them again." Jack said quietly, casting one last look at Will. "Maybe I was right to be alone for so many years."  
  
Then Jack fled. He left the father and son alone without another glance, and stepped into the snow of mourning England.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
A messenger came at dawn, a boy of eight years. He recited the words as one would a nursery rhyme, not knowing their significance or their meaning.  
  
"Let the Swann be roasted and feasted on by others, for her flesh makes me sick."  
  
And the Pearl's black sails were raised in the British harbour, and she too fled.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
He gave the message (or a much edited message) to Elizabeth, and she wept. She clung to his arms, and wept. Ana-Maria watched wordlessly from the shadows by the door, and Gibb's tried to think of comforting words for this very grown up Elizabeth.  
  
Then they had left her, and Elizabeth had sat down on the cold wooden floor of the blacksmith, her world in pieces around her.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack was defeated, and alone. He drank himself into a passive state, so that even Ana-Maria's words could not bring him back to the world. Even when she slapped him hard across the face, he simply looked away. He muttered to himself while he stood at the helm, his compass in one hand. The sailors shook their heads and mourned the absence of their jovial Captain.  
  
He didn't snap out of it till they reached Tortugua. Jack looked at the island, and for once it did not lift his heart. His thoughts went to the ring swinging around Ana-Maria's neck, and he cursed himself for giving it to her. Cursed himself for becoming a sentimental old fool who would keep to his word.  
  
So to make up for him not being able to enjoy his time in Tortugua, he let everyone off the ship, except dear Ana-Maria.  
  
"Fuck you Jack!" She howled, stomping her feet, as he pinned her hands above her head below deck. Those were the first words she'd said to him but 'Aye Captain' since that night in Port Royal.  
  
"With pleasure, lovey." He muttered. "But I don't really think that's what you meant."  
  
"Let me leave the bloody ship." She snarled, barring her teeth at him. Jack pursed his lips as if thinking and then shook his head.  
  
"Sorry love, your to be scrubbing the decks today." He said charmingly. "And since I am still your captain, and I've let you off deck scrubbing duty for say three years, you can bloody well do what I ask." He grinned, and pushed himself off the wall, waiting for her onslaught of abuse. Ana- Maria raised an eyebrow  
  
Jack was most disappointed when she did scrub the decks, muttering and cursing his name as she did it. She scrubbed the mud encrusted planks of the ship till they shined line a government man's boots.  
  
Jack sat on a wooden crate, his feet up, watching her. She turned her back on him and refused to speak to him. Occasionally he would walk across the bit she had just scrubbed with his dirty shoes.  
  
Jack, it seemed, didn't take kindly to being dumped.  
  
Jack knew that there was a thin line between hate and love. He also knew that both of them sprung from passion. If she couldn't love him with a passion, she would bloody well hate him with one.  
  
And Ana-Maria bloody well wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of winning, even if it meant she had to scrub the decks.  
  
This was to be the first of the number of petty ways the two lovers would now proceed to make each other's lives hell.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The next day as Ana-Maria came on deck, Jack swung the sail so that it knocked her of the ship. Unfortunately, unlike Will, Ana-Maria did not have the strength in her arms to hold on to the sail, and was knocked full clear of the ship. She fell head first into the water, not managing somehow to make Jack's ever so elegant dive.  
  
Jack peered over the edge of the boat and grinned. Ana-Maria reappeared, spluttering for air. Her soaked her looked up at Jack's grinning face and she raised a clenched fist in his direction. Then she screamed such threats at him that made half the crew pity their charismatic Captain.  
"Whoops." Jack shouted down at her.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	21. Blood and fists

Authors note: I'm giving you a double dose in an attempt to get me to HIDE my computer and NOT go on the internet (yah). Exam in two days, no bloody hell, one day now! Stress! Must not go on computer!  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Then Jack got the invite, left at his favourite bar in Tortugua, for Elizabeth's wedding. The small, italic print was Elizabeth's handwriting. It was the type that everyone gets, and yet something caught his eye at the bottom of the invite.  
  
A P.S., hastily scrawled at the bottom, written especially in hurried hand for Jack. A message that no one else would understand.  
  
"Swan cannot be served, as the meat was found to be fouled. Please  
RSVP"  
  
And the Pearl once more made for Port Royal. The crew shook their heads at Jack. They hadn't been on a raid in months now. Mutiny was whispered between the ale cups between the newer pirates, and Gibbs and Ana-Maria watched Jack with worry and discontent in their eyes.  
  
The word land lover, and the comment that Jack had gone soft appeared occasionally at the diner table, quickly drowned by a sharp look from a pirate who had been with Jack since the beginning. But looking around, they were few and far between. The motley crew who had braved Barbossa had disappeared, dead or retired or just gone.  
  
That night, Jack saw Ana-Maria slip into Tyler's cabin through his drunken drugged haze, her soft feet bare, as they had always been when she came to him. He clenched his fist, but did nothing. He knew that around her neck she still wore his ring, and he would keep true to his promise. He wouldn't touch another woman while she wore it. He sat passive, his mind blank as he tried not to imagine the two of them in bed together and he waited for the drugs to kick in and overwhelm his senses.  
  
They did, and his rage was forgotten.  
  
That didn't stop Jack throwing Tyler of the boat when he came on deck in the morning, or leaving the blonde boy paddling in the soft waters of the hot summer Caribbean.  
  
"Where's Tyler?" Ana-Maria asked later when she emerged tousled and relaxed looking. The other pirates avoiding making eye contact with her, all seeming to be very intent of tying this or that not, or suddenly having to go clean the cannon way over on the other side of the deck.  
  
She put her hands on her hips, looking around angrily.  
  
She stalked up to were Jack stood at the helm, his eyes have closed as he squinted, his kohl smudged around his eyes.  
  
"Where's Tyler?" Ana-Maria repeated angrily.  
  
"Couldn't say." Jack said cheekily, grinning at her like a schoolboy. Jack then proceeded to ignore her. "A pirates life for me, we plunder we pillage.." He picked up the tune, making up new words as he went along. Ana- Maria glowered at him, waiting. He continued ignoring her for two full minutes. Then he started darting her suspicious looks like he couldn't remember why she was there and he knew he should be able to.  
  
"Ana-Maria, I seem to notice you standing there for no particular reason." He purred, turning to her and giving her a mock bow. "If I can be at you service in any way possible.."  
  
"Jack!" She snapped, and starting slapping his arm. He darted away, yelping and scowling at her.  
  
"What!?!" He shouted, rubbing his arm. "Damn you hit hard woman." She clenched her fist menacingly.  
  
"Where the hell is Tyler?"  
  
"Ah, well love," Jack started, raising his hands as he explained, backing away from her slightly. "Me and Tyler had a bit of an agreement as to how he stayed the Pearl, and he broke that agreement, so he no longer is.." He paused, looking upwards in his slightly confused way as he re-ran that sentence in his mind. "on the Pearl, love.' He finished slowly, and then grinned cheerfully.  
  
Ana-Maria took in a deep breath, so that she would have the full capabilities of her lungs to yell at Jack. Jack gave her a pained, dubious look when she did this, tilting his head to the left and up in expecting way.  
  
"So where is he?" She said slowly. Jack bought his hands together and pursed his lips.  
  
"He's not on the Pearl anymore?" Jack repeated in the way one does to a teacher when you know the answer is wrong.  
  
"YOU THREW HIM OFF THE BOAT!!" She shrieked. She raised her fist, and her eyebrows menacingly. Jack raised his hands to stop her.  
  
"No, wait, wait!" He started. She held her fist high at the ready, waiting for his explanation. Then he paused, and nodded. "Actually, your right. Quite literally as well." He added as an afterthought. Caught up in what he had just said, Jack missed Ana-Maria's movement and so her blow caught him off guard.  
  
He spun back with a surprised look on his face, and then rubbed his jaw.  
  
"Never been punched in the face by a woman before." He muttered, turning back to her. "Now darling Ana-Maria.." He started, but she raised her hands.  
  
"No Jack, I'm done. Leave me the fuck alone from now on." She started walking away.  
  
"See?" He called out after her. "You don't even care about Tyler. You're not even upset. You don't care about anything any more do you?" He yelled. The only response was her giving him the rude finger as she went below deck.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Elizabeth lay on the floor of the home she had shared with Will, her face bleeding and her lip cut. She raised her arm feebly above her head, and gazed up at her attacked. General Lornan had dark shaggy black hair, which constantly escaped from his white army wig, which was now askew on his head.  
  
He spat at Elizabeth.  
  
"Do you want to embarrass me, to ruin my career? I've spent so bloody much on our would be wedding but no, you've got a bloody bun in the oven." He punctuated each of these last words by a kick at Elizabeth's fallen form. "I would take you after your smart husband left the whore that you are to run back to your fathers, after you bedded that pirate and probably half his crew." Elizabeth whimpered, and she wept. How could she have read this man so wrong?  
  
He grabbed her by the shoulders, slamming her frail form against the wall.  
  
"And look at the ugly little thing you are. What a useless wife you would make. But now, you bring me here, and tell me you won't marry me. And you whine and you cry and wring your hands, you manipulating little bitch," He raised a hand and slapped her across the face. "And you tell me you can't marry me."  
  
"Well you will marry me. I'll see to it. And I shall get promoted because of your father. And you, you little bitch with just have to put up with me.." He snarled. His hands moved from Elizabeth's throat to the exposed skin above her chest. Then he stopped gasping for air.  
  
He shuddered, his hands reached up to the sword that had punctured his chest. The tip pressed against Elizabeth's breast, mixing his blood with her own blood that covered her white dress.  
  
Elizabeth looked up through her tangled blonde hair, Will's name forming on her lips.  
  
But it was not Will.  
  
Her saviour flashed her golden teeth as he snarled, hauling Lornan away from her, slamming him against the wall, and plummeting another blade into his body. Jack drew the blade out, and stabbed him again and again, his face dark.  
  
Elizabeth slid down the wall, crying again.  
  
She looked up, watching Jack stab her would be husband, blood covering his hands now.  
  
"Jack that's enough. He's dead." She whispered. Jack stopped, and drew his blade out of the body. He wiped his blood-smeared hand across his face as he swept back the beads and hair that now covered his face.  
  
"Are you alright love?" He asked. She looked from the fallen general, whose eyes stared glassily at Jack's soft boots, and then at Jack's blood smeared expression.  
  
She fainted right away.  
  
Jack bent down, picking up her little form, ignoring the blood that she was covered in, or the blood on his hands. He pushed her blonde hair of her face, leaving it red and streaked. With one hand under the knees and the other around her back, he took her out of that house of blood.  
  
And though it was late at night, people looked out their windows with alarm as they saw the pirate carrying the little Swann girl drenched in blood down the street.  
  
When the guards came, with Governor Swann dressed in pale blue pyjamas, found the obliterated body General Lornan, stabbed over thirty times. The tablecloth had been torn of the table, and a bloodied feminine print was pressed against the pale yellow walls of the former Turner and Swann house.  
  
And people told the tale of Jack Sparrow dragging the dead body of Elizabeth Swann, formerly Turner, through the streets of Port Royal by her bloodied hair.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	22. Don't you know that we're falling?

Author note: I know! It's a been a while, but I had to do SOME serious editing, cuz I rushed ahead without added some important things. But its up now and I finished my chem exam (YEAH!! Never have to do a science ever again Not thinking about result, lalalala, thinking about new summer dress I just bout, lalalala) and will finish the story quickly hopefully. Okay, let me say thank you to Rat and Anjiescarlet and Daftangel5013, reviews keep me alive, and I love to know that people are following my stories, no matter how dark and twisted they get. lol. Jackfan2: You know I love you, and that your awesome reviews keep me writing and build up my confidence and oh, love you! Can't think of words, am meant to be writer, meant to good wordsnessness. Idea: Lol there will definitely be a sword fight between the two, it's just been coming for a long time. But wow, I can't believe you followed all my little continuations. The emerald, well that's something that's Ana- Maria's, and if she uh, perhaps stabs Jack with it, well, that's her issue. But I'm very attached to her and her emerald and everyone will be making it out alive of this story. Except maybe Will. I don't like him much. He's disposable. Fine, fine, I'll keep him around.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack pressed a wet cloth to Elizabeth's lips, and she hissed in pain.  
"It's just a scratch. Cracked lip." Jack murmured. Elizabeth lay nestled in his bed, purple and yellow bruises forming around her eyes. The candle lite flickered and Jack's shadow loomed over Elizabeth's frail one ominously. Outside, the water's lapped at the sides of the Pearl who would sail late into the night.  
  
Elizabeth laughed, of at least scoffed and then groaned with pain.  
  
"Just a scratch?" She repeated.  
"Well, depends on what you clarify as a scratch love." He said, putting the cloth back in the water, which was now tinged red with blood. "I've seen worse, if that comforts you." She closed her eyes, and Jack sighed.  
  
"Is he dead? Did you kill him?" She asked quietly.  
  
"He's dead." Jack muttered, and then spat into the basin. He unwound the scarf from his head, and took of his affects, placing them on the bedside table. He went to speak again, but Elizabeth had fallen into a deep slumber, her head fallen against her shoulder and looking at the wall. Jack sat down on his chair, putting his feet up on the bed, watching the girl sleep.  
  
Though the blanket was pulled up over her body now, he knew that she was badly hurt underneath. He didn't think anything was broken, but the bruises forming around her ribs were looking nasty.  
  
And now the Navy would be chasing him.  
  
He knew what it would have looked like, what would be assumed. He was a pirate, what was one more cross by his name? Its not like Port Royal had ever really been a holiday spot for him anyway.  
  
He leant back, resting his head in his arms, sucking absentmindedly on his lip. (hold on, close your eyes and imagine that. Ah.)  
  
The door behind him creaked open and Ana-Maria slipped into the room. Jack let his head fall back and watched her, without comment. They hadn't spoken since their fight after he'd thrown Tyler off the ship.  
  
"How is she?" Ana-Maria asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the door.  
  
"Do you care?" Jack replied coolly, resuming his former stance and watching Elizabeth. Ana-Maria closed her eyes for a moment too long. Then she ran her hands through her hair, and laughed.  
  
"I shouldn't should I? According to you, all I care about is myself."  
  
"Well, prove me wrong lass." He replied. She sighed, and tucked on her gold earring. She watched Jack's from behind, the matt of his long brown hair tumbling down the back of the chair. She walked around beside the bed, knocking Jack's feet of the bed, and glanced down at the sleeping girl.  
  
"How much rum did you give her exactly?" Ana-Maria asked with the hint of a smile on her face. She took of her hat, placing it at Elizabeth's feet.  
  
"More then she's used to, that's for sure." Jack grinned, and then released a pent up burst of laughter, allowing himself to relax back into his chair. "She downed a whole bottle when I got her, and half since. I'm surprised she wasn't sick. First time I downed a bottle.."  
  
"You threw up everywhere, I remember, I was there." Ana-Maria finished his story eagerly. There was a pause and both of them smiled. Ana-Maria turned, and ran her hand over Jack's forehead. He stilled beneath her touch, looking up at her with his suave yet unreadable expression.  
  
She very slowly, yet fluidly, flicked one leg over his so that she straddled his lap. She felt his large hands on her back. Her face was slightly higher then his, and he looked up at her.  
  
"We can finish each other's story Jack," She said smiling, and Jack pushed her hair behind her ear and the clasped her hand. He grinned his slightly lopsided smile again.  
  
"We can at that." He replied, touching her smooth brown skin in a way he thought he never would be allowed to again. But when she dipped her head in for the kiss with serpent like grace, he leant back, letting his head fall back against the chair head and her kiss fall short.  
  
"What?" She asked, her face becoming frustrated.  
  
"Not with Elizabeth there." He said. Ana-Maria looked at him, and brought her head back in disbelief. He winced and rubbed his hand over his mouth apologetically.  
  
Ana-Maria climbed off his lap, grabbing her fallen hat.  
  
"Fine. If you'd rather some land-loving whore in your bed then me in you lap.." She said threateningly and stormed out.  
  
Jack sat motionless, hearing the door slam with an angry crack. Elizabeth shifted in her sleep, but did not wake.  
  
"Bloody women." He whispered. "More trouble then their worth." He ran his hand over his face, and reached for his rum.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Once Elizabeth recovered, Jack put her in a room with Ana-Maria. He wasn't exactly sure why he did this, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Then the other pirates wouldn't get any funny ideas about the girl, because everyone knew Ana-Maria wouldn't stand for any funny business. And then no one, including Ana-Maria would think he was sleeping with the girl. And, most importantly, he would get his comfy bed back to himself. The chair he'd slept in the last few nights just wasn't the same.  
  
He noticed the building tension and wariness between the two women, and Elizabeth watched Ana like a hawk. Elizabeth, who spent most of the time sitting near Jack at the helm, sowing or mending while she recovered, asked Jack outright about Ana-Maria.  
  
"You guys were still lovers weren't you?" She asked, squinting at him. Jack didn't turn, preferring to keep his eyes on the sea much as a good wagon driver keeps their eyes on the cobbled path (??).  
  
"Yes. We were." Jack replied.  
  
"When we were together?" Elizabeth half stated, half asked. "And that's why you two broke up."  
  
"There were other reasons." He said briskly.  
  
"She's different."  
  
"Time will do that." Jack replied in a way that meant end of conversation. But Elizabeth watched the girl and wondered.  
  
Elizabeth lay in her hastily erected bunk in Ana-Maria's cabin, her legs crossed, and her back against the wall. The cloths in the room had been tossed around, the draws gone through, and then it all put neatly back, once Elizabeth had found what she wanted.  
  
She swung the golden medallion in her hand, rubbing her fingers over the familiar pirate cross.  
  
Elizabeth had spent nights on the pirate ship last time, and more time then any of the others with cursed Barbossa. She's known, or guessed at least, what was causing this change in Ana-Maria.  
  
Not everyone could resist the temptation of such gold, of such an opportunity.  
  
Ana-Maria came into the room hours later, caring a dying flame, stinking of rum and sweat. She collapsed on the bed, and then turned her head over to look at Elizabeth, who stared at her. The medallion glinting in the candlelight, and a long silent look passed between the girls.  
  
"This is yours." Elizabeth stated, tossing it to Ana-Maria. Ana-Maria sat up and caught it guiltily, stroking the gold almost sorrowfully. "Jack doesn't know."  
  
"No."  
  
"Eternal life?" Elizabeth asked. "Is that why you're doing it?"  
  
"No. That's part of it, but no."  
  
"You don't like loving him do you?" Elizabeth said quickly.  
  
"No. I love him too well, and it makes me unwise. It makes me a fool."  
  
"And that can cure you?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, pointing at the medallion.  
  
"Maybe." Ana-Maria said equally as coolly. She shrugged then, and sighed. "It wasn't the point to begin with, but maybe now, yes." Elizabeth gave her another long look, and then paused.  
  
"I.." She bit her lip, tossing her blonde hair as she thought. "I need to find Will, and see if he will take me back. I'm pregnant. If Will will not take me back, then I cannot have this child."  
  
"See a medicine woman, not me." Ana-Maria spat. Elizabeth jutted out her noble chin.  
  
"If Will won't have me, I want you to take me to the Ile De Muerta, and I want a piece of that gold. That is the deal I will make with you right now, and for that, I will not tell Jack what you've done." Elizabeth paused. "He would not let you leave this ship holding a piece of that gold if he knew, you know that."  
  
"I know. He would chain me to the mast and drag me back half way across the world back to the Ile De Muerta if he knew." Ana-Maria said quietly. Elizabeth nodded, and a silent agreement passed between the girls.  
  
"Does Jack know?" Ana-Maria asked.  
  
"About the child?" Elizabeth said, her hand automatically going to her stomach. "I think he guesses."  
  
"Could it be his?" Ana-Maria said quietly, staring at the wall behind Elizabeth's head. She closed her eyes when Elizabeth nodded slightly. Ana- Maria laughed, and shook her head. "It's funny, if it is. He spends one night with you, one miniscule second, and gets you with child. So many whores of Tortugua could say the same. And yet I spent years in and out of his bed, leant every muscle and scar on his body, came the closest that anyone has to ever figuring him out, and." She smiled mockingly. She looked at Elizabeth. "I'm barren. Did Jack ever tell you that? Can never have children. The likelihood now, well." She fingered the medallion. "If there was ever the tiniest hope that I could have children, that likelihood's gone now."  
  
"You never told Jack anything did you?" Elizabeth said, with almost disgust in her voice. Ana-Maria bit her lip.  
  
"Told him what? What could I tell him?" She said, her mouth drooping slightly. She continued quietly. "I told him what he wanted to hear. What you don't realise Elizabeth, is that a silence between Jack and I can mean more then a sonnet from your dopey eyed boy." She finished harshly. Elizabeth raised one eyebrow.  
  
"Funny, cause I thought you two were over."  
  
"We are."  
  
"He can still make you angry though. I thought.." Elizabeth broke off and gestured at the medallion. Ana-Maria shrugged.  
  
"Its not that bad." Even to herself, the words sounded weak. "It seems the body can be silenced, but it still gets to me here." She touched her temple. "It seems I can't ever get him out of here." Then she turned her fingers into a gun shape and pulled the trigger mockingly.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
Jack offered to take Lizzie, but was gently yet firmly refused. She shook her head, a shower of slick blonde hair and she looked beautiful again, hopeful. Her face was flushed with the first days of pregnancy, and he loved the determination in her eyes. He hated her stubbornness however.  
  
"Jack, I think I need to do this on my own terms, not just as a delivered parcel. And I, well, I think it would be better if I met Will without you there." She had said, trying to soften the blow. "I'll tell him you helped me, though. I'll never forget this." She added. Jack shrugged that off.  
  
"Don't tell him. If you go, promise you won't tell him my part in the tale." He made her promise, and she agreed reluctantly.  
  
There was nothing for her left in Port Royal, and the world was empty without Will as its centre.  
  
And the child inside her was growing more insistent.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
R&R. Come on, you know you want to. 


	23. Last flashes

Author note: Reviewers: Love ya, gtg in a hurry, School, should not be doing this before school..Arg.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Jack?" Ana-Maria carried a dying candle, the flickering flame nearly blown out as she walked on deck. His dark silent figure outlined against the star studded sea would have been breathtaking, except he leant to heavily on the helm, and a empty rum bottle hung loosely between his fingers. There was no moon that night, just the thick clouds of the sky above.  
  
"Ana-Maria." He growled happily. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he fingered her cheek softly. He pouted, closing his eyes.  
  
"Come on, you old pirate you. What are you doing drunk and alone of deck?" She asked, hauling his weight below deck. Jack sniffed and shrugged, the bottle falling out of his hand onto the deck with a soft thud. Ana-Maria drew in a breath of frustration at the effort of trying to get Jack down stairs.  
"Bitch." Jack muttered as she moved him not too softly down the stairs.  
  
"I know." Ana agreed. Jack leant into her neck. She pushed open his cabin door, and laid him out of the bed. The fire in his room had long since gone out and it was chilled in his room. Ana pulled Jack's little window shut. She shivered, her shawl giving little protection from the night air. She turned back to see Jack watching her from his drunken sprawl on the bed.  
  
"Come here love." He said. She raised an eyebrow. He patted the bed beside him again. "Come here, I won't touch ya." She agreed grudgingly, and came to perch on the bed beside him.  
  
"You ever been to Mexico love?" He asked. She shook her head marginally.  
  
"Gunna take me there too are you?" Ana-Maria asked with the hint of a smile on her voice. "You promised to take me to the stars once."  
  
"Yeah well, that was before you became the bitch of the high seas. Wouldn't care to take you now." Jack said snootily, dropping his head back on the cushions. He waved his arms above his body as he spoke, his gems sparkling in the fading light. Ana-Maria leant back also, leaning on hear arm.  
  
"What's in Mexico Jack?" She asked.  
  
"Pure poetry, Ana love." He said smiling. "Pure bloody poetry. Makes a man want to do a lot things, that land. Makes a man want, yearn, boils his blood. Ah, and the Mexican woman, there another thing entirely." Ana-Maria rolled her eyes. "Beautiful, move like liquid fire, like my Egyptian queen Ana.ah.." He paused, remembering whom he was talking to. "Like bronzed Cleopatra's, every last bloody one. Eyes tempting like the devil but cold, and those voices, voices thick like golden tequila. Nothing compares to those woman, who dance till the sky rises and with hearts like stones."  
  
"Not even me?"  
  
"Bah." He waved a hand. "Not talking about you. Matter a fact, not bloody well talking to you. Bugger off." He waved a hand. Ana ignored the insult.  
  
"Tell me about Mexico Jack." She probed. Jack nodded contently.  
  
"Was born there." Jack said dreamily. "Beautiful, so beautiful. Country that makes ya know what love truly is." He licked his lips. "Senses, overwhelming of the senses." He reached out and brought Ana-Maria's hand to his lips.  
  
"Please." He begged. She closed her eyes. "Please don't deny me tonight."  
  
"Jack." She started, pulling away. She pushed herself of the bed, the shadow of night surrounding her like an impenetrable blanket.  
  
"Ana." Jack ordered. She half turned, gazing over her shoulder at him. He sat up, his face oddly naked with his longing. "Don't deny me tonight, or I shan't ask again." He threatened, his voice low.  
  
"Do you promise that?" She asked.  
  
"Aye." He replied. He held out a hand to her and she shook her head. Just one tiny shake of the head, a tiny flicker of the eyes. Her hair shook beneath the gesture.  
  
Jack's eyes dulled.  
  
"Go then." He said.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
In a town outside London, two weeks before Ana-Maria kindly relieved Jack Sparrow of his captaining duties, Elizabeth knelt before the gravesite the bore the name "William Turner." She touched the new black etching of the name, and the soft brown earth of the grave. She read the inscription over and over again, in disbelief.  
  
How could she not know this? Though they had been half the world apart, she could not believe that she wouldn't know if he was hurt or injured or if he died. How could her love be so weak? She should have known, she should have been able to read it in the stars or in her dreams. Their love had defied all obstacles, and yet here she was, caught completely off guard, weeping at his gravesite.  
  
"A good man?" She said, reading the inscription outline. "Three words? Three words to define that man, that wonderful man. How is that enough?" She whispered. Her black gloves were dirty now, and she rubbed them over her temples.  
  
As she stood, she noticed the dirt that covered her white dress, the muck and crinkles on the knees. But she no longer cared. Nothing mattered anymore.  
  
Nothing mattered except that a child grew inside her, a child born of two fathers both who she loved dearly, that she could not kill with her own self destruction and that she could not bear because she was not strong enough.  
  
She found her way to a bar, and wrote to the one woman who held a glimmer of hope for her. And it felt like a weight fell on her shoulders again, a weight sick with betrayal and horror. But she felt the child inside her kick and her loneliness drove her.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack stood at the helm, so drunk that he swayed with each breath. He mumbled to himself. Things were not going well. And there were rumours. New pirates, new alliances. Things were falling out a Jack's grip. He couldn't stop thinking of Will in that opium den, and Elizabeth's beaten face. He'd caused this. One foolish day, and he'd caused all of this.  
  
The Pearl hadn't been on a raid in months.  
  
Been chasing after bloody land lovers. And the pirates were discontent, whispering amongst themselves. Blaming Jack, questioning his lack of leader ship. Even Gibb's was starting to wonder if it wouldn't be better for Jack to give it up for awhile, let Ana-Maria captain. And they all felt the itch for battle, for the clang of the blade, for that little bit of danger.  
  
Ana-Maria wrapped a bandage around her hand. The cut she sliced into her palm bled, but it did not hurt. She watched the red fluid flow with general disinterest. Nothing, nothing, she felt nothing.  
  
Except when she looked at his face, and saw the pain there.  
  
No blades could hurt her, no wounds kill her, she didn't need air or food or touch. But his face, the sound of clanging beads, his smirk, how could they still hurt her?  
  
"Pain," She murmured. The sun had set, and she had squirreled away below deck. Orric, Benson, and Lars would come to her room soon. And they would talk about tomorrow, about all the tomorrows after that. Greedy pirates who wanted to snatch the Pearl for themselves, to take what they deemed they were owed.  
  
Pirates who didn't know Jack, didn't know what he was capable off.  
  
Oh she knew. She knew he was the only one who could do it. He was the only one who could make her feel pain. Who would ever know how to kill her.  
  
Why you hurt the one you love, there's an element of hurting oneself. Sometimes your not sure who's heart you put the blade in, theirs or your own.  
  
Jack was the only thing that could take her back from this, who could put away this medallion and the power it wielded as though it were nothing. And it did wield power. It made her immortal.  
  
Yet he had never been tempted, to reach into that chest, to take what Barbossa had taken from him, to take and take and take what should have rightfully been his.  
  
She fingered the emerald on the hilt of her dagger, and remembered rising above him, the dagger so close to his chest that she could imagine it pressing through his flesh. And she could barely remember his exact words, but she remembered that his hand had stroked her hair and made her remember what it was she could live for.  
  
Now she could only remember the memory of the memory of what that hand had felt like.  
  
She sighed, and heard footsteps in the corridor outside. She knew they weren't his. She shifted, picking up the letter from Elizabeth, knowing she was waiting at the next port, that she would be smuggled aboard the ship. That Jack couldn't know, couldn't suspect.  
  
He was the only thing that could still make her feel.  
  
And she hated him for it.  
  
The word mutiny was strangely tantalizing on her mouth, and she could almost relish in imaging the hurt look on his face. And then his face would be gone, and he could never hurt her again.  
  
Yes, once he was gone it would be better.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * 


	24. Opportune moment

Author note: I know! It's been a very long time, and I'm very evil, but I've have many many excuses that pretty much run along this line : Exams, shopping, computer crashed, boy issues, ex boy issues, lack of sleep, granddads sick, complete writers block, got sidetracked with a my so called life fic, and saw the Texas chainsaw massacres, which scared the.. Well, scared me, and now AM NEVER GOING road tripping in America, insane I tell you. Excuse my rant.  
  
Thanks to everyone who puts up with me, and my irregular and often crappy updates, I'm so low on inspiration at the moment, I'm thinking of going back to the source, and pulling out the potc dvd. So tired.  
  
Mallory: Cheesecake? You would give ME cheesecake, Oh! I feel so honoured, I will eat some in your honour, my fat thighs be damned! Queenoftheeggs:Well, I'm not allowed to kill of Will, it just doesn't fit into my time line for Jack, and I'm afraid people would egg me, so you might possibly be right. Mad I TELL YOU! Jackfan2: Oh! Did I really kill of Will (gives you a sly look) muahahaha! I outsmarted you! I mean, yes, read the story, ahem, yes. Lol. Darkest place, check, gets lighter from here on out. Any ideas on Liz? I really am unsure where to take her part in this whole fiasco.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * "I've been looking for you, Jack Sparrow. You've got a lot of explaining to do." Will said angrily, his sword pointing dangerously at Jack's chest. Jack didn't bother to correct him on the 'Captain' thing. He raised his hands half defensively above his chest, producing his best grin.  
  
"Ah, see about that." Jack raised one hand theatrically and then paused. "Wait, what exactly are you angry at me about again?" He said, putting his hand to his head to stop the world from spinning. The two pirates that had listened to Jack ranting earlier watched this scene develop with amusement.  
  
"There seems to be quite a lot of reasons, Jack, why don't you pick one?"  
  
"Is this about me sleeping with.." Jack started, and then stopped, his eyes comically turned downwards as he arched his back away from the blade the Will had moved dangerously close to his chest.  
  
"Don't you dare say her name, you filthy cur." Will spat. He gave his former best friend the blackest look, and for a second Jack saw the pained and innocent boy he had used to know. "How could you do it Jack?"  
  
"She's always been a very attractive girl." Jack said wearily, leaning against the bar, and placing his hand on his temple again.  
  
"I should kill you on the spot." Will snarled angrily. "I thought you were our friend. I thought you were a decent man." "Decent?" Jack asked questioningly. "Boy, no ones ever used that word in relation to Jack Sparrow." Will pushed the blade further, so the pressure on Jack's skin was actually starting to worry our Captain.  
  
"And then I heard the stories, and I could barely belief them. But I went to our house, and found the blood on the walls Jack," Will said shaking. Jack groaned and buried face in his hand.  
  
"Ah, Will, if you're going to be mad at me, at least be angry at me for the truth." Jack said, and stood up. "I've never laid a hand on Elizabeth." He met Will's obstinate and disbelieving eyes. "Okay, let me rephrase that, I've laid a HAND on her, but I've never hurt her. Okay, maybe I've hurt her, but I've never.."  
  
"I don't need to hear any more of your lies Jack. Just shut up for once." Will said, waving his over hand protectively and not looking at the pirate. It hurt too much. It hurt to look into the face of someone who had betrayed him.  
  
"That's the truth, boy, I never hit her."  
  
"Then why do they say it?" Will's words tumbled out of his mouth in a choked sob. "When they said you dragged her blood soaked body through the streets, when they showed me the body of the General, the wounds, I couldn't believe it. I wished I'd come earlier, a day or two too late, and your foul hand had already.." He broke off, and the sword fell to his side.  
  
"Boy, I never hurt her. I saved her." Jack said, putting his hands of Will's shoulders. But Will turned his head away.  
  
"I care not for your lies Jack."  
  
"Then kill me, if you do not believe me. If you've come here to kill me, then hurry up and kill me." Jack said with such defeat in his voice, that Will turned his eyes on him, his face torn with astonishment. He met the old man's eyes and winced.  
  
"Jack, please. You know I can't best you in a fight, I never could. Fight me, and send me to her arms. If it was your hand that took her life, then take mine as well, and may you be damned to hell."  
  
"She's alive Will, she lives and breaths." Jack repeated, shaking Will softly. Then he turned away, reaching for the bottle of rum that the bartender had kindly put on the bar. He drank a sip and scowled at the burn of alcohol on his throat. "Well, she was alive last time I saw her."  
  
"Please don't say that." Will said each word slowly, raising a hand to stop Jack's words. "Please Jack, don't make me hope, I've lost too much already. My father.." He began, and Jack cut him off.  
  
"Came back." He said, sculling another sip of rum and sitting back down on the barstool. He stared at his feet; ignoring the astonished look Will gave him.  
  
"And now he's.." Will started, his face covered in confusion.  
  
"Dead. Suicide." Jack finished again. "I know." He raised his bottle. "To Bootstraps."  
  
"How do you know?" Will said warily.  
  
"Because I knew our Bill."  
  
"You sent him to me, knowing he was going to." Will said angrily.  
  
"Yes. And I can't change that, nor could I then. I owed it to him not to ask questions." Jack shrugged.  
  
"Well, Jack, what is it that you think you owe me then?" Will said in a low dangerous voice.  
  
"Ah," Jack said with a faded smile. "An explanation." He patted the barstool next to him. "Come, sit. It's a long story. I don't know why you could say it started, if it was what I did that summer afternoon those months ago with your wife, or if things started going wrong before that." He paused, beckoning the other pirates to gather round. Will looked at them with mild reproach, but hunkered down to catch Jack Sparrow's words.  
  
"But I'd known things with me and Ana-Maria had been wrong long before that. See, Ana-Maria, my little wench, who's now known as the Captain of the Ivory Grip, or the Black Whore to her blonde bastard sons of a bitches associates may they rot in hell," He broke off, trying to remember where he was up to and to get his breathe back. "and I were," He paused, and grinned. "Lets just say, we'd visited just about every briny deep possible together, eh boys?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"So our two bitches shacked up together, came up with a merry plan to rob me of my boat, and sailed of into the blooming sunset together." Jack said finally. The crowd around him all released a sigh. Jack threw his cloak over his shoulders, and swayed to his feet.  
  
"And I'm off, boys, that's the only tale I have to tell tonight." He slurred. The other pirates watched him sympathetically. The hubbub of the bar had died to a mild chatter, and each man went back to his drinks soberer.  
  
"Jack, wait." Will said, darting after him. He grabbed the man's hand, and clasped it in his. "Jack, I'm, I'm sorry that," He stumbled over his words. Jack smiled to himself grimly. Hero's should never have to say they are sorry. "I'm sorry that I thought you could do those things. I should have known." Will said, honesty ringing in all his words.  
  
You always knew where you stood with Will, either in the black or the white. If Will wanted Jack to play the white knight, well, he would be disappointed.  
  
"But I did do them Will, did you not hear my story?" Jack said, and pushed Will of. He walked out into the early night, looking up at the moons cruel face emotionlessly. Somewhere, out there, was the only person who'd lived to get the better off him. But this time he did not have a bullet to sink into their heart.  
  
"Jack. Wait." Will repeated. Jack spun around angrily.  
  
"What boy? What do you want from me?" He said angrily. He raised his arms dejectedly. "You want me to apologise? For what? For banging your wife? For letting your father suicide? I can't change those."  
  
"You say them like that, but after what you just told, it happened differently." Will said. His innocent eyes were troubled. With one hand on his waist and the other held out to Jack entreatingly, Jack was suddenly struck with the memory of sitting in that cell in Port Royal when Will had served as his unlikely rescuer. He looked so much like Turner; the Turner Jack had loved as a father.  
  
Jack dropped his eyes.  
  
"Jack,"  
  
"Sparrow. Jack Sparrow boy. Don't forget that." Jack mumbled, looking about him, to the people that brushed past him like he was nothing. He felt the alcohol coursing through his veins, and felt sick. Sick and sad. He wanted this boy with his youthful, so promising face to go away.  
  
"Jack, I forgive you for what happened with Elizabeth. It wasn't your fault. It was no ones, and everyone's fault." Will said sternly. Jack patted his pockets and pulled out a already rolled joint. He lit it with wobbling hands.  
  
"Well that's nice boy, but what does it change?" He took a long toke, looking to check that the end was still lit, and then let it hang on his lip. Will jutted out his chin.  
  
"We have to go do something, Jack. Get them back." Will started. Jack laughed, tossing his match to the ground.  
  
"Get who back boy? This isn't a fairy tale. Ana-Maria left me, stole my ship and thinks I'm dead." Jack waved his arm around and then caught a whiff of stale air that could be used as evidence to prove that that wasn't a misconception. He continued anyway. "You've spent the last few months in a opium dens in England while you're ex wife was beaten to a pulp by her unwanted fiancé. What the hell do you want me to do, Will? Do you see a bloody opportune moment in the near bloody future?" Jack said scathingly. Will looked at his rough hands and his lips tightened.  
  
Jack shrugged again, and turned away, walking down towards the harbour and towards his little apartment above the bakery. A woman with dyed red hair and carmine lips let him stay with her, and she liked to fuck on the faded pink tiles of the bathroom floor.  
  
"Opportune moment Jack? Are you going to wait another ten years then?" Will said. Jack halted, his eyes widening. "Wait till your teeth rot and fall out and you're too old and bitter to chase the horizon? You want an opportune moment Jack, then make it! Make it with me, and now." Will begged.  
  
Jack turned around, and paused. He looked Will up and down.  
  
"You forgive me? Truly?" Jack asked. "Cause grudges can wear at a mans soul, Will. Wouldn't want that for you." Will grinned and nodded as though Jack had made a good point.  
  
"Oh, your right, your right. I better forgive you then, for the sake of my soul."  
  
"Darn right." Jack said, and exhaled a breath that felt like he'd held for months. He clasped Will's hand, and it felt like a step.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
And somewhere, across the blue ocean, Ana-Maria slept unaware.  
  
In her dreams, she walked through a field of deep blue flowers that brushed against her ankles and whispered. Somewhere she could hear the sound of water, flowing, tugging at the land as it tugged at her heart.  
  
And then she saw Jack, standing on the bridge. He took his hat of, placing it on his abdomen in a mock salute. He grinned at her, and she found herself raising her hand to wave like some foolish lover.  
  
She ran to him, ignoring the growing sound of the flowers whispering, and the pebbles beneath her feet. She swung into his arms, laughing, pressing her nose against his. He laughed too, his hand on her bare back, and he tilted her back over the edge of the bridge, running his lips up her neck.  
  
"So you feel it?" He whispered. He suddenly seemed very far away.  
  
"You radiate Jack. Do you know that?" As she said it, the ground shook. "Do you feel that?" She whispered in panic, but he shook his head, smiling.  
  
"You make me feel like I'm in love." He murmured against her ear. Ana- Maria's eyes flickered open and she put her hand up on the back of his head, treading her long nails through his hair.  
  
"Do you feel this too?" She whispered. "Or am I the only one? Whose love with you Jack," He laughed and she laughed too, happy to be in his arms. But she knew even as he'd said the word love that the dream was thinning, fading away like smoke in the night.  
  
She knew he was alive.  
  
And she woke, lying on the cell floor, her arm cast out from her body, lying in the moonlight, stripped of skin.  
  
"Oh, Jack." She whispered. The night swallowed her words, and the other prisoners slept on. She paused. Turning her face to the window, she closed her eyes tiredly. "And I hate to know you're out there in the world, thinking ill of me."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	25. The promises we make

Author note: Okay, again with the I'm sorry, I'm running behind on everything, might not update till Saturday after this, the next bit will require some work. I know, this updates crappy, my writing's off at the moment, stupid computer.  
  
Elizabeth Swann/Turner: I realise I forgot to reply to you and also was slightly afraid, see I'm a good girl, I didn't kill orlando bloom. ;) I know, I think Ana and Jack might have to battle it out, they've had it coming for awhile. Still, if you can feel so much for someone, its hard to work out if its love or hate, hopefully Ana will realise BEFORE she tries to kill Jack, again, lol. What is that, the third time?  
  
Mal: Bennigans? That sounds very familiar? Melbourne maybe? Hmmm, anyway, you don't understand, cheesecake is like. oh, its so good, its nearly as good as like, oh, I can't even vocalise it, but it's a very high tribute. Lol, hope your liking where I'm taking this, its not cheesecake land, but maybe I'll get there by the end.  
  
Rat: I read your Red Sky in the Morning, but I'm afraid to read any further, that was just so perfect but unbelievably sad. I will have to think about it for a bit before I read anymore (am reading everything in snatches at the moment, so you'll have to excuse my slowness). I know I should, because it leads in to Jackfan2's fic, but, I don't want to see Jack tortured, I'm too afraid.  
  
Jackfan2: Damn, you noticed my from hellness rip off, damn, I was hoping I was being all subtle, but really, I just watched the movie and liked the whole opium den thingy, lol, it had Johnny depp in it, I couldn't not watch it. I know, things are starting to pick up for Jack, and with Will here, things should pick up speed. Um, about Elizabeth, huh, um, yeah, I'm not sure where she is at the moment, I kind of misplaced her, ah, I know, I should have planned things better, she's kinda caused a halt in my thought processes, but I know where she is basically. What do you mean I lost her? I didn't lose her. I know where she is.*big fake grin* And Ana-Maria, she can deal with a little prison time, she deserves it, I mean, she did take Jack's hat, and that's just unacceptable.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Jack! Wake up! It's time to wake." Jack Sparrow dreamt of Ana-Maria behind bars, and shivered. He tried to hate her, he wanted to.  
  
But she haunted his dreams, and he hoped he haunted hers with such vengeance. For she came to him, and he never knew if she would twist a knife in his unsuspecting body or kiss him and caress him with her ghostly hands until he woke. He hoped she was alone and miserable, and that she would never find comfort in anyone else's arms. That whomever she lay with, their eyes would reflect the emptiness inside her.  
  
And from the past her voice filtered the early morning.  
  
'Kiss me and make me feel alive like only you can do. You know it's never as good with anyone else, no body can do you like I can'.  
  
"Bloody right no one can." Jack muttered, pulling on his shirt. He looked up at the waiting Will and shrugged. Will shook his head, and looked away from the old pirates scared chest.  
  
"You say her name when you sleep Jack." Will said, gazing out the window at the early morning. He rested his hands on the cheap windowpane, and his dark eyes were thoughtful.  
  
"Aye. Better then me saying Elizabeth's eh?" Jack murmured, inspecting himself in the mirror. He licked the end of his kohl stick and stuck out his tongue as he skilfully reapplied the makeup.  
  
"How can you?" Will asked, spinning around. "After all she's done?" Jack put the kohl stick back down on the dresser and turned to Will.  
  
"See what you don't understand mate is doesn't change a bloody thing what's happened." He glowered at Will. "It doesn't change how I feel. She's still mine." Jack said with venom in his voice. He leant forward, and lowered his voice. "Do you think I'm the only man who's ever had Ana-Maria Will?"  
  
For that's what this was really all about. Jack knew that. Will saw the world in black and white, and he saw forever printed on a gold ring and a blessing from an old man in a church. He didn't know what forever really meant.  
  
Jack did. He'd waited ten years, and he knew.  
  
He knew forever was with Ana-Maria and nothing could change that.  
  
Will looked away in disgust. By the time he had turned back, Jack was rearranging his collar.  
  
"I've stolen Ana's boat before, and now she's stolen mine. We're square in my mind. Well, okay, not exactly not holding grudges about it. I'm still mad, but we're square. However," Jack said raising his hand. "As I've always said, there are things a man can do and things a man can't do. I can be angry at Ana forever and leave her to her miserable existence. But I can't live without her. So I guess, mate, I'll have to go save her." He finished, and shrugged. Will looked at him with almost admiration.  
  
Even though these words were very different from Jack's complete defeatist and drunken attitude last night, neither of them brought this up.  
  
"And I?"  
  
"You will find our dear lass Elizabeth and look into her beautiful eyes and make your decision." Jack spat on his hand and ran in through his beard. "Cause you heroes and heroines put a lot of emphasis of dearies eyes. Me, I know what's in here," He thumped his chest. "I don't need no ones eyes to tell me that."  
  
"And her?" Will said. "Ana-Maria?" Jack paused. Her name was spoken so rarely these days that it caused him to halt whatever he was doing whenever it was mentioned. "Is she." He wanted to hear the pirate say those words, to truly admit he'd succumbed to a woman and that her betrayal had stung deep.  
  
"She's a woman like no other." Jack said thoughtfully. "And she's mine. No one takes from me what's mine."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It was easier then Will had ever thought it would be for Jack Sparrow to slip back into his old circles, re-establish connections. There seemed to be a million pirates who knew him, who had shared an adventure or were willing to share an adventure with the great Jack Sparrow who had disposed of the immortal Barbossa (or so it was now told).  
  
And it was strange, but people were willing to help Jack, though he had naught but a grin and a name to swing his reputation on. Jack could sweet-talk the pants of just about any person on the planet, man or woman.  
  
Will watched Jack playing cards, his feet planted on the table, his new hat dipped in such a way that his face was in shadow. The circle of pirates were interesting at any rate, though not the type Will was used to being associated with. There were pirates and then there were pirates.  
  
Not all of them were as friendly as Jack.  
  
Scars riddled their bodies, eyes and limbs were missing, and each had a calculating look in his eye. But then, that could be said about many of the customers at card game tables in any country in any era.  
  
But while they played, they talked. Talked of old times, of slitting throats of youths, raping of young girls and nuns, all the depravity and sins that Will had tried to plead ignorance off. And all the while, Jack inspected his cards with un-shocked scrutiny.  
  
Visitors came to see Jack, people who would not reveal their faces, who stood in thick cloaks and smelt of expensive perfumes of Arabia. Urchins would pluck at his shirt as he walked past, and Jack would bend to hear their whispers.  
  
But they all whispered the same thing, and Will could hear it from the people on the streets, from the men in the taverns, from the posters on the wall.  
  
The Black whore had been caught stealing jewels, which now could not be found, and she was to be hanged in the coming week.  
  
Yet Jack did not make his move. He continued playing cards, idling his days, while Will grew more and more restless. It was not until the captain of the Left Hand sat down at Jack's card table did Will see the fruits of Jack's actions.  
  
Her blonde hair tucked behind a thick, light blue cloak, her light brown eyes glinting from the darkness of her oval face, she could have almost been Elizabeth. Will drew his breath, watching the way this woman moved. The sway of a stray lock of hair beneath her breath, the way her long fingers stroked her glass full of red wine and rum. Underneath her clock, her arms would ripple with the soft feminine muscles that a female pirate was bestowed, her stomach smooth and yet hard like expensive leather, and her skin like salt and luxurious soap.  
  
She was what Elizabeth could have been, if she had become a pirate.  
  
And Will desired her. But not because of who she was, but because of the promise she held, the memory of a brave little girl who would cling to his arms and fight pirates with him.  
  
He missed Elizabeth so.  
  
Jack whispered in the blonde pirates ear, his face animated and his words never stopped flowing. Finally, Eve threw back her head and laughed, her pearly white teeth glinting like some foreign jewels. She tugged at the necklace around her neck.  
  
"Ah, Jack. Your proposal is an interesting one, and certainly comes at a, well, an interesting time." She paused, and glancing at Will, dropped her voice so that he could no longer hear.  
  
That night, the three of them left the card room, Jack much more drunk then he had been when he entered it, and made there way for the Left Hand. Will looked warily around the foreign ship, which was made of such light, almost caramel coloured timbre that so strongly contrasted with the Black Pearl.  
  
The sails flapped lazily in the wind, and Will had the ludicrous temptation to make the sign of the cross. From the helm, a dark Spanish girl watched the three of them come aboard with strong dislike in her eyes.  
  
"Isabel? Bella?" Eve called, her voice automatically snapping back into her Spanish accent. The Spanish girl ignored this call. Eve gave Jack a pleading look. "Jack, come." Eve said. Jack nodded. He placed his hands on Wills chest and gave him a long hard look.  
  
"Boy, are you ready for what's to come? This isn't going to be easy." Jack said, squinting at Will. Will raised his chin obstinately.  
  
"I would give up anything to right the wrongs I've made." Will swore. Jack tilted his head, his dark eyes taking in Will as they had one other day, beneath a bridge in Port Royal.  
  
"Would you still die for her?" He asked echoingly. So many years, and yet this, this had to be the same.  
  
"Yes, of course I would." Jack snapped out of it, and patted Will's chest condescendingly.  
  
"Just knowing where we stand." He said, turning on his heel. Eve watched this proceeding with an amused eye.  
  
"And you Jack? Would you die for the illustrious Ana-Maria?" She asked laughingly, her eyes wide with excitement. Jack pursed his lips, opened his mouth a couple of times, and then coughed. He looked from side to side, and then nodded sheepishly.  
  
"Aye." Then he looked guilty. "But don't go telling her that, savvy?" He said quickly. Eve laughed. Isabel, from her position by the helm, watched the three of them talking sulkily. Eve glanced back at her, and she sobered. She looked at Jack one more time, as though he were a complex riddle yet to be figured out. She reached out, and touched the silken traces of his beard with her fingers. She then rubbed her fingertips together as though to see if he had rubbed off somehow.  
  
Above them, Isabel fumed.  
  
"Maybe I should have asked the more relevant question," She said softly. "Would you die by her hand?" Jack took her hand from his face and held it over his chest. She looked down at her hand with surprise.  
  
"What do you think lass?" Jack replied. "Of course I bloody would, if it comes to that." Will shivered.  
  
Would he be prepared to go that far, to allow Elizabeth to kill him without a moment's regret, as though he were nothing? Could his love survive that indifference? He hoped he was never put to such a terrible test.  
  
He hoped that beyond hope that when he did find Elizabeth, she would take him back.  
  
So court up in his own musings, Will didn't notice the tension between the two girls and Jack. He didn't understand the words spoken between them. He didn't speak Spanish. If he had, he would have been surprised at what Jack had used as a levying power to get aboard this ship.  
  
He would have understood Isabel when she said.  
  
"We don't need a child, and certainly not his child," But he could not understand Spanish, and he did not understand why Eve took her lover's head in her arms and whispered in her fluent Spanish tongue,  
  
"But I want one, I want to give life rather then take it for once. Soon, it will be too late for me. You're young, and full of passion, but I am old and full of weariness. Jack is a worthy man, and good man, and this is what I want."  
  
And Will would have understood the sad look Eve gave the Spanish girl before she flounced away.  
  
"Give her time love, she doesn't see why you need this." Jack said softly. Eve nodded. She looked out to the pink streaked harbour, the calm of the day, listening to the screeching gulls above. This was the hardest decision she'd ever made, to give up her ship for a year while she bore a babe. Isabel couldn't understand why she wanted this, why she felt the need to have a child, a family, when treasure and trinkets was enough for her.  
  
But for Eve, it was no longer enough, and she wondered if it ever would be again.  
  
"Do you see why Jack, do you see why now? Why Ana-Maria turned from you?"  
  
"I think I'm beginning too." Jack Sparrow said softly, and turned his eyes to the setting sun. The heat curled around the two of them, binding them together, and time slipped away from them, forever slipping away.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	26. Crackle and pop

Author note: Dark chap here folks, and thank you to all my reviewers, love you all. Last exam tomorrow, I should be sleeping, but hah! Sleep is for the weak! Long notes: I'll try to keep them shorter in the future if they are annoying anyone.  
  
SavvyJackSparrow: Thanks, I've actually had that line in my head from the very beginning of the story, and was waiting till the right moment to work it in! but you know I can't kill of Jack, I'm too attached. Mal: Four pieces of cheese cake is never good for you (shakes her head) but then again all I ate today was four cookies, two bottles of coke (yes, you can eat those), a piece of cream and chocolate cake and four stingers (there candy), so I'm thinking, cheesecake is definitely the way to go in the future. If its gunna be cake, its gunna be goooooood cake. Elizabeth Swan/Turner: Pitchforks? Wow, you know how to get a really good mob, not one of those crappy one's with posters you see now a days. Hmm, Ana and Jack fics, well, read Rat's fics (click on the little link in review, I have no idea how to get there otherwise), their amazing, and same goes for Jackfan2 (she's continued one of Rats fics, so read that first) , um, there are some other good ones around but its hard to remember. I'm reading two ones at the moment one by J.L. Dexter and this other fic, that's not Jack and Ana, but its got Jack as a ghost in it by Nightfox the Gypsy. Hope that's some help, I'm so out of the fics at the moment, everything's crazy. Soon I'll sit down and find some good ones, but I've got just no time. Rat: Hope you don't mind me mentioning you there, but your fics seem like such a good base for reading Jack and Ana fics! Jackfan2: Um, don't kill me, but this chapter is in no way going towards the happy ending, and it even stressed me out re reading it, but breathe and remember, Jack is hot, he's bloody stubborn, and he will eventually bully Ana till he gets her back. Breathe. Yes, depositing eh? Sperm banks eh? Well, I had this random thought about female pirates, and that lead to this little side story, and voila, it snuck itself in. Remember: Jack is hot. Well, duh, how could you forget that?  
  
Okay, since I just wrote that, four guys from school rocked up outside my door. Its eleven o'clock on a Thursday night, don't you people have homes? Lol. * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Ana-Maria's execution list was remarkably shorter then Jack. But her escape would be no less spectacular. However, she would not have a group of friends desperately pulling her out of the nose, or some loud mouthed oaf to awe the crowd like there had been in Arcadia.  
  
Not that Jack wasn't there. He leant against a post in the back of the crowd, happily chewing on an apple. He began peeling the skin himself with his knife, his eyes watching the faces of the crowd, the passing beggars, but refusing to look at the small girl on the podium.  
  
She was beaten, and limp in the restraints, her eyes rolled upwards like a dying dog. Her face was bruised, and Jack could see where the rope pulled around her wrists was causing old wounds to split open again and that the blood was seeping out slowly in blackened clumps. That alone backed by her almost drunken swoon would have made the old Jack Sparrow wonder if it was worth saving her from the noose. Infection and internal bleeding would have finished her off in a few days, if she'd still been able to die.  
  
But this was not six months ago.  
  
"Jack, what are we going to do?" Will asked, ready for battle. Jack shrugged. Will grabbed his arm, pulling Jack to meet his gaze. "We're not going to let her hang are we?" He said, his eyes widening innocently.  
  
Jack bit down on the apple happily, swaying to his own thoughts. He gestured to the crowd, at the girls in light white dresses that strode past the captain with appraising looks.  
  
"Thing about bloody woman," Jack started, talking to the surly and silent Will. "Is you can't bloody trust em. Not with you're money, you rum, your bloody boat" He pointed at Ana-Maria to prove his point. "Only thing you can trust them with is your dinner, your dick and that they just won't bloody well die."  
  
Will, who couldn't take his eyes of Ana-Maria's slumped form, put his hand to his blade. Jack stopped him, shaking his head, and moving out of the afternoon sun.  
  
"Surely you can't actually mean to leave her there to hang do you?" Will said indignantly. "Not after all we've been through already just to get here." Eve and the Left Hand sat in the bay, flying the sails of merchants. Cargo was being unpacked, and goods bought and sold, but it was for Ana-Maria that they were here.  
  
Jack threw his apple core away carelessly, and pulled out his second bottle of rum. He glanced at the black liquid and smiled slowly. Then he looked up at Will, then at Ana, then at Will's definite face again.  
  
"Listen mate, if that rope kills her, I'll be called Barbossa's scullery maid." Jack said obstinately, crossing his arms. He cocked his head to the side, indicating for Will to listen to a conversation going on between three men. Money was quickly exchanging hands, wagers being made.  
  
"Heard she beat of an entire patrol, all by herself. Got her through the middle with their swords a number of times, sliced her so that she should have bleed to death and been reduced to nothing but black nigger skin." The man spat, the tobacco thick spit landing obnoxiously close to Will's boot. Will took a step back in disgust.  
  
"Yeah, but no one escapes the rope, Granger boy, she'll swing silently like the rest of them."  
  
"She got into the governors jewels I heard." A maid said, a basket of bread under one arm. The old woman by her side shook her head.  
  
"No one got's into the governors jewels. No one could. They're too well protected." The woman said sourly.  
"How come they're missing then?" The young girl persisted. The old woman whacked her softly on the back of her head for her impertinence.  
  
"Think logically Agnes. They didn't find no jewels on her, so it can't have been her that took em." The two women moved out of Will's hearing. Will turned around to talk to Jack, but Jack was already moving towards the men who had spoken earlier. The one with a crook eye who had spat earlier gave the pirate at condescending look. Jack put his foot up on the table, and leant on it heavily. He whispered to the two men.  
  
"Heard the girl's really the gem thief known as the Black whore." He put a hand over one mouth. "Sorcerer I heard." The two men squinted at Jack.  
  
"Sorcerer, fools tales." The second man, a baker by trade, said sourly. "You better not let one of the priests catches you saying that, boyo." Jack seemed unmoved by this title, and shrugged. The crook-eyed man shook his head.  
  
"They'd burn her, that be a pretty sight." Said one of them men slowly, and manic grin forming on his face. "Eh?"  
  
"There aren't no bloody sorcerer's or witches, or bloody mermaids." Jack cocked his head at that last one.  
"Actually my dear man, there was this one time in." He started, but was cut off.  
"Nah, the man might have a point Bill." He said earnestly to his baker companion. "Heard she can't die because she replaced her very heart with metal and gold." Jack narrowed his eyes at that last comment, giving the slumped Ana-Maria a second appraising look. He could see from the way her eyelids fluttered that she was awake.  
  
She was faking it.  
"She's saucy alright, look at that Bill." The crook-eyed man said. They all turned around, to watch Ana-Maria spring to life, her arms pushing against her restraints, her eyes bloodshot and wide like a caged animals. She started swearing, cursing everything in sight.  
  
"Got a mouth on her, don't she Granger?" The men cackled.  
  
"You'd trust that with your, um, goods Jack?" Will asked, coming up behind the old pirate. Jack pulled a face, his mouth dropping in a fearful grimace. He looked from Will to the two men and then back again. Jack grabbed Will's arm and pulled him away.  
  
"Ana-Maria's different Will."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Will queried. Jack nodded, striding around the outside of the square, dragging Will with him.  
  
"Aye. Her," He jabbed one dirty finger at the podium. "I'd trust with my rum."  
  
Jack and Will pushed their way to the front of the crowd, and gazed up at the writhing Ana-Maria. An official was still reading out her transgressions in a dull monotone voice. The crowd watching was bored, and drifted in and out of the process. It was a naval town; people were hanged often enough in it so that the actual thrill of the snapping neck had faded. Kids were playing hopscotch, and the smell of rotten fruit drifted from a cart that trundled down the side of the street. Only Jack and Will seemed truly interested in the process.  
  
"Ello love." Jack called up to Ana-Maria, his eyes darkening with mischief and something else, that almost resembled pain. Ana-Maria paused from elbowing her captor in the stomach, and her eyes dropped down to were Jack stood. Jack tipped his new hat at her. Ana-Maria stared down at the two of them wide eyed.  
  
"But you're dead." She whispered. Jack grinned. He always liked to make a shocking entrance.  
  
"Seems you've forgotten one thing love, I'm." Jack started, with a sweeping bow. Ana-Maria cut him off irritably.  
  
"No, no, I figured you make it out somehow, Jack," She said the last words menacingly. "But Elizabeth, she said you were," Ana-Maria said staring at Will, and then broke off and shook her head. "You two are well suited then, neither of you can die when you meant to."  
  
"What do you know of Elizabeth?" Will cried, leaping forward. Ana- Maria laughed in his face.  
  
"Boy, you're still the same. Still hell bent on being a hero."  
  
"Where is she?" Will said softly, his hand on his waist.  
  
"You think you can scare me boy?" Ana-Maria said enticingly. "I'm to hanged, and your threatening me. I've more power then you could imagine."  
  
"Because you stole a trinket from your masters chest." Will said scathingly.  
  
"Master? You call that dog my master? He's closer to the monkey Barbossa named after him." Ana-Maria said, nodding her head at Jack with disgust. Jack rolled his eyes. He'd heard worse. Ana-Maria continued, slightly disappointed that this insult hadn't stung more. "I provided for Elizabeth like you couldn't." She said softly. "You failed her, do you know that? And now she's alone, and you'll have to search the world over for her. Are you strong enough for that?"  
  
"Will, leave." Jack said forcefully.  
  
"Jack no," Will said grabbing his arm. "We need to find out where Elizabeth is."  
  
"I know what we need Will, and I don't need you here." Jack said lowly. "Let me talk to the lass." Will met Jack's eyes, and his lips thinned, but he nodded.  
  
"All right, Jack, I trust you."  
  
"Foolish boy." Ana-Maria said softly. "Trusting a pirate." Will turned and left. Ana-Maria forced a smile, though it was more then a baring of the teeth. "Here we are again Jack." She spat down at him. "Come to save me for old times sake?" She said in a mocking sweet tone. Her captors were pushing her forwards towards the noose. Jack shrugged.  
  
Ana-Maria laughed.  
  
"Don't think the drop'll hurt you all that much." Jack said indifferently, as though they were talking about the weather. Ana-Maria turned her head to the side, smiling slightly manically.  
  
"Ah, so you've heard about my little curse, have you?" Her head was being put through the noose, her hair neatly tied back behind her neck. Will watched the interchange with horror.  
  
"Aye, lass." Jack said. "Would you like some help?"  
  
"Ah, Jack." She said, smiling unnervingly at the executioners. "You think you've got it all worked out. But I wonder." She paused and then laughed derisively. "You appear so calm, but even in the back of your mind, you're worried. What if she's gotten rid of the curse? What if this really kills her? Not much of a conquest is it Jack, seeing me killed by others hands. Do you have a bullet for me, like you had for Barbossa?" Jack grinned, as though he wasn't listening, looking at the people in the crowd. But her words had chilled him.  
  
He nodded, distractedly. Ana-Maria, her head in the noose, ignored the priest who came up and started chanting words before her.  
  
"If I die now Jack, it'll be your fault. You won't ever get another chance to save me." She said temptingly. Jack shook his head.  
  
"How do you know I didn't just come here to see you swing?" He asked, turning his head to squint up at her. Ana-Maria laughed again, straight into the face of the priest before her, who wavered slightly with surprise.  
  
"Talking to demons," The Priest murmured as though Jack wasn't there.  
  
"Because I know you Jack. It's never just about the kill with you. Your one of the good guys remember?" She said scornfully. Then she spat into the priests face. "Do remember what it was like to die Jack?"  
  
Jack remembered well, the feeling of the blade through his stomach, the icy fingers that seemed to reach out and pull on every nerve of his body.  
  
"Aye." He murmured, though she could not hear him.  
  
"Now watch me hang." She said, and the platform feel, and a cracking noise could be heard from were Jack stood, as her neck snapped.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	27. The air before the storm

Author note: Hey guys, letting you know I'll be finishing this story soon (ahem, I know you don't believe me, but for serious man, lol), am in the progress of writing the big fight scene which has distracted me so this chapter is probably pretty crappy and not worth much to the plot, but I'll update again before the weekend. I'm currently running out six hours sleep, two cokes, a coffee, a bag of pretzels and three packs of gum so excuse me if I'm a little edgy. Damn you school holidays, damn you. Resting my arse. I promise to be more consistent! (hehe, that worked with explaining my exam results too.)  
  
Queen of the eggs: Lol, I'm sorry, I was watching the commercial on an old movie tape and it just seemed so appropriate. Ah, rice crispies, I might go have one now. Daftangel: You know you love em! Elisabeth Turner: Lol, you're the first person whose ever actually called me a nincompoop, hehe. I thought that last chapter might have upset a few of you, but (adds quickly as she hears a rock thrown at her window and angry mob jeering outside) read on, read on and excuse me, would I really really ever kill of Ana-Maria? Jackfan2: Oh, I remember when we used to celebrate thanksgiving (I had a friend from America who always did it before she went back), it was like an pre Christmas Christmas. I'm so jealous of you Americans, you get Thanksgiving, Halloween, and Valentines Day. What do we get, hot surfers? That's it, and really, after you've seen one surfer, you've seen them all. Sigh. Mallory: You're right, my diet does seem to be slightly out of wack, but I think it adds to the whole meloncoly, darkened under the eyes French artist look I'm trying to pull off? You don't think so? Anyway, strange boys outside my house seems to be a regular reoccurrence this week, as everyone has decided to come and live at my house whenever they feel like it. Not that I don't want them there, ahem. I'm a good host (shoots evil looks) this is possibly what has been delaying updates.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
That night, the skeleton of the captain of the Ivory grip blew in the wind. By morning, the crew of the Ivory grip had cut her down and sailed away.  
  
And so her fame, and her reputation increased.  
  
Even Captain Jack Sparrow hadn't been hanged, confirmed dead, put out with the corpses and still walked around to tell the tale.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A hawk flew on the horizon, circling, looking for a path home.  
  
Jack rolled over in his bed. He watched Will's sleeping form, the pallor of the lad, the fierce fisted clutch on the blanket. He wondered how long the withdrawal symptoms had contorted the boys body, how weak the boy was.  
  
Practising fighting was a trial on Wills weakened body, his muscles slack with lack of use and his bones brittle in his body as the opium had driven away all nutrients.  
  
Some things don't heal overnight.  
  
Jack grimaced, flicking the beads on his head out of his way as he turned away from Will. Only here, in the dark of night, with the moonlight barely pressing on the wooden floor, could Jack allow himself to doubt. Here, in the darkness, he could remember Ana-Maria's cold gaze as she ordered him to get the fuck out of bed, her finger twisting on the trigger of the musket she held casually in one hand, the snap of her neck as she fell from the podium.  
  
He could also remember her whispering, on so many occasion, 'come back to bed Jack,', and the feel of her hair beneath his course fingers, the way her shoulders drooped when she was tired, how she would sit with her legs up on the edge of his desk, watching him, listening to him talking of navigation and the position of stars, of things she didn't understand, that she would laugh at him for. She would sip her drink, and coil her arms around his neck, and whisper things in his ear that made him growl with approval.  
  
He'd sworn he'd never lose her and he'd lost her. He'd sworn he'd never take another woman, and he'd taken other women. He'd sworn he'd never let her hang while he was still living and breathing, and he'd had to watch her neck snap.  
  
He'd sworn he would never hurt her, and somehow he'd hurt her.  
  
He grunted, and threw those thoughts from his mind. There were plans to be made, words that had been brewing in him the last six months to say, battles to be had, Elizabeth to be found, the Pearl to be regained, the hoard to be his once again, yet still.  
  
He was having trouble shaking the sight of Ana-Maria's neck on that awful angle from his mind.  
  
And the fact that she had opened her eyes and winked at him had only increased his horror.  
  
He closed his eyes, and thought of days before Ana-Maria, before Barbossa, before his days as the ferocious pirate he now was. He thought of nights spent in India with the seven beautiful wives of another man, of their shimmering beaded clothing, and their high tinkling voices beneath half veils...  
  
Ana-Maria awoke from dreams of Indian whores with a shudder. Dancing woman, their eyes opaque with desire and lust so that it almost sickened her. Ana-Maria pushed the loose sheet of her, the heat of the day almost unbearable already. The waters of the Caribbean would be cool and clear outside, but she cared little. She rubbed her neck experimentally.  
  
She stood up languidly, loosing her hair from the pony tail that had become limp and pathetic from her night of tossing and turning. She paused, touching the soft hair lingeringly. It was too long, she thought objectively.  
  
The cabin that had once been Jacks held little to remind anyone of his presence. His books were still there, for they were just books, he could not leave his imprint on them.  
  
His few spare clothes had been tossed vindictively overboard, his blue eggshell compass, which Ana-Maria had given him smashed, his sheets stripped from the bed. She had not disposed of his journals, or his hat.  
  
Each pirate to their own plunder.  
  
She threw off her white slip, and examined her back in the long mirror she had obtained. The flowers etched into her skin were still there, a daily reminder. Coiling from the top of her shoulders, down to the base of her spine, they now were more obnoxious to Ana-Maria then the receding slice thin scar on her back. She pressed her fingers to the thin cut cautiously, and then tilted her head with a scientist's scrutiny.  
  
There was a knock at her door, but she ignored it. Whoever was there left as quickly as they had come. Ana-Maria laughed softly. Madness really was remarkably fun when you thought about it.  
  
She pulled on her clothes and cloak, though it was too hot, and she smoothed her hair carelessly.  
  
Once on deck, she squinted, noticing the vibrate smudge that was the Ile de Muerta.  
  
"Battle here again Jack?" She murmured, barely moving her lips. "My, how repetitive of you." She said, with a shake of the head, as though her adversary could actually hear and see her.  
  
"Captain," Tyler said softly from behind her. Ana-Maria turned gracelessly, and forced a grin. The title was appropriate, but his sour almost hurt expression was vaguely irritating. Ana-Maria was having trouble remembering exactly what she had done to upset Tyler, but men always seem to be upset about one thing or another.  
  
"Surprised to see me?" She said cheerlessly. Tyler bowed his head, acknowledging this snub. He had been on watch the night she was court, but had been otherwise distracted, which mean he'd been distracted by a red headed irish woman with a jug of ale and nice thighs.  
  
"You look remarkably recovered." He said. Ana gave him a blank look. What was passing through her mind was imperceptible. "A letter came on from Crien," Ana gave him another blanker, more confused look. "The hawk. It's a letter from that little blonde girl." Tyler said, with a sight almost sensual lilt in his voice as he described Elizabeth.  
  
Ana-Maria took the letter of him coldly.  
  
"How is the little girl?" Tyler asked, oblivious. "She had that babe yet?" Ana-Maria tilted her head with distaste.  
  
"You betrayed me." She said quietly. Tyler's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Captain what happened wasn't my fault," He started.  
  
"In Antigua." She said bluntly. "You sold out the Black whore to get out of prison. And you just now, made a deal with Orric to be dropped out on the Mexican coast with a bag of jewels if you would get me captured." She said without a hint of emotion. Tyler quivered.  
  
"That's not true Ana,"  
  
"Don't lie to me Tyler." Ana-Maria said reproachfully. "You should remember I'm your captain." She said with a dangerously low voice.  
  
"Ana, you know I love." He stopped when she snorted. "You've changed." He said, not bothering to deny it. "I thought when you came to me, with the Pearl in your command, I thought."  
  
"That I wanted you?" Ana-Maria said scornfully.  
  
"You've changed so much from the girl I knew in Puerto Rico." Tyler whined. Ana-Maria looked down thoughtfully, and nodded.  
  
With almost lighting speed she'd drawn her dagger from her waist, and sunk it into Tyler's unsuspecting stomach. He crumbled around the dagger, doubling over in pain, Ana-Maria still gripping the handle. Tyler opened his mouth once all twice, spit bubbles forming on his lips.  
  
"And you haven't." Ana-Maria said bitterly. "Move with the times Tyler." She said, withdrawing her dagger, and letting the body fall to the deck of the ship.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Aboard the Left Hand, tension was mounting. It seemed Isabel's firmest wish that Jack did not follow this example.  
  
"I will kill him," Isabel said, her long elegant fingers drawing out her blade as prove. Eve watched her with mild amusement. The cabin swayed as the ship shuddered.  
  
Above them, Jack would be standing at the helm, one hand on his hat to keep it to his head, the other gripping to the wooden hand alls, feeling his way back to his island. There was no magic compass now to guide him, no coordinates written on the back of a hurried letter, but he knew the way as he knew the scars on his body, he could feel the path to it through the surging of the deck, as though his feet dragged along the ocean floor, the paved and well trodden road.  
  
That lead to her.  
  
Eve twirled the key around her finger.  
  
"Will you know?" She said softly, dangerously. The flames of the banked fire cast shadows across her face, but she still looked tired and pale.  
  
The young Spanish girl threw herself at the older woman's feet.  
  
"Please, please don't do this. Don't go away, don't leave me." She whispered to Eve's knees. "I can't manage a ship by myself. Haven't I been good to you? Haven't I loved you? I always love you, no man has been so good to you." Eve sighed at the girl's passionate outburst. She caught Isabel's chin in her hand and turned her youthful face towards her.  
  
"What do you know of men?" She said softly. The girl tried to look away, the flash of panic evident on her face. Eve grimaced at her own cruelty. "Yes, I know my child, I know your pain, the one night that changed everything for you, that you draw all of this hate and anger from." She bent to kiss the girls forehead. Isabel's eyes flashed with terror.  
  
"The men." She said slowly.  
  
"Yes, my sweet, I know." Eve cut her off. "But for me it was not so. I chose, I left my husband because I knew the desire in my heart was not for his body. And he was young, and tender and gentle, but I could not love or desire him. But for you. Your love for me springs from pain." Eve repeated insistently.  
  
"No, I love you, I love you more then live itself." The young girl cried passionately, pushing Eve away. She drew out her blade. "Leave me and I will kill myself." She swore.  
  
"I gave up so much," Eve said, as though the girl had not spoken. "And I have all I ever wanted, in you and The Left Hand. But the life I gave up had other values, which I cast aside as unimportant in my youth. Now I'm am not so sure. You don't understand, you are young."  
  
"You always say that, that I am young. But I am yours as well, and you can teach me to be wise in my youth. Please, don't lie with this man, don't grow thick with his child, the other births, they nearly killed you." Isabel said softly. Eve's head snapped up. Isabel looked at the floor. "The miscarriages, that drove you from your marriage."  
  
"Been listening to bar talk have you my love?" Eve said sharply. Isabel glowered at her defiantly.  
  
"You die, and you will kill me also." She said sulkily. "But if this is what you want, I will not deny you it." She finished. Eve reached out a hand for her, and brought it to her soft tanned cheek.  
  
"Our child will be strong with this man's blood. And his own passion for the sea will mingle with our out, and the child will be filled with love. Love for the ocean, love for the world, and they will bear tranquillity in their eyes like Jack Sparrow does." Eve swore. Isabel broke in a smile.  
  
"Tranquillity? Jack? Are you talking about the same person as that rambling scoundrel above us?" Isabel said, her moods as changeable as the sailors sky above them. Eve grimaced  
  
"Well, everyone has their flaws." She kissed the girls forehead again. "We'll just never let the child near any rum, ever, and they should be fine."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	28. Hold you breath and wait to breathe

Author note: I am very very sick, sniff sniff, though this is entirely my fault as I have been told "you've been out all night and blah blah blah blah" and not eating properly. I'm SORRY!! But I will be staying at home for the next few millenniums, so I will update more (sniff sniff) Any one have any ideas on how this battles going to turn out? I'd love to hear them, because what I've got in mind is rather violent, but you must remember, once a pirate always a pirate. And Jack's always got a few tricks up his hat or under his sleeve (lol). Hugs and kisses to all reviewers, and anyone who sends me comfort food (looks up hopefully.) no? oh okay, more chapters soon, read on. * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"So Jack Sparrow, here we are. The passage that sunk a thousand ships, that you sailed so well so many years ago, if we can believe the tales," Eve said grinning. She leant against the rall, joining Jack in his musings. He nodded and shrugged.  
  
"Well, you know what they say love," Jack leered, revealing his golden teeth.  
  
"Non, I don't know. What do they say?" She said, her voice tainted still by her accent. Jack leant over the railing and spat into the foaming ocean. He glanced up at the sky, and sniffed, as though he could feel a storm coming. Then he grinned at Eve, tipping his hat.  
  
"Dead men tell no tales love." He said proudly. Eve raised her eyebrows and laughed despite herself. Jack grinned, rubbing his hand over his eyes.  
  
"Ah, Jack Sparrow, who destroyed the monster Barbossa, that is a tale I would like to hear from your lips. Can it be, or is it just another false tale in the mystery that is the Captain Jack Sparrow?" She asked, her eyes filled with curiosity, as though she wanted to devour him, to crack open his head and find out how he ticked.  
  
Jack shrugged.  
  
"Ask Will, he was there, all those years ago." Jack said, turning his back on the ocean, looking over to were Will stood, joking with the other pirates, pushing his floppy brown hair back with one hand as though he had not a care in the world.  
  
"William? He was your companion then also? Mais, il est just a blacksmith, non?" Eve said, narrowing her eyes. Jack tried to think of the words to describe Will. Friend, pirate, blacksmith, brother, son, slightly annoying fatherly figure.  
  
"You know," Jack leant in confidingly. "He's an eunuch under those cloths."  
  
"Really?" Eve said aghast. "Mais, he is married."  
  
"Yeah, bit of a nasty shock for Elizabeth when she figured that one out." Jack said and wandered off, flipping a coin in the air. Eve stood watching Will, her mouth open with amazement.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"See, Ana-Maria will be expecting us to land here, cause it's the quickest way to the hoard. Or, she'll be expecting us here, or here." He said, pointing to various beaches along the coast of the Ile de Muerta, "Because they all have strong defensive positions and are well hidden. But," He said, moving his finger around to the opposite side of the island. "I don't intend to fight a battle with ships. I intend to spring a trap."  
  
Eve and Will waiting for Jack to finish. Jack's finger hovered over a small beach on the western side of the island. "Here, this is where we will land?"  
  
"There?" Will said, disbelievingly. "What's there, it's just a flat stretch of beach."  
  
"I agree with William, zat beach has no defensive capabilities, no use for us." Isabel exclaimed from the doorway. "I say we should land here," She said with an authoritative manner, shoving Jack aside. Jack raised his hands as if in defeat, listening as Isabel outlined the benefits of that beach.  
  
Only Eve watched Jack, waiting for his reason. She waved away Isabel's words, and leant over to touch the beach Jack had pointed out.  
  
"Why this beach?" She asked slowly.  
  
"Because we know something Ana does not know about this beach." Jack said triumphantly, leaning back in his chair. Eve raised an eyebrow questioningly. Jack leant forward, and drove his dagger into the map. "This beach has a settlement."  
  
"Une settlement, on the Ile de Muerta? C'est impossible." Eve exclaimed falling as she often did into French. Will gave Jack a bewildered look.  
  
"A settlement Jack? How could Ana-Maria, how could no one else know?"  
  
"Boy, I've been betrayed by my first mate before." Jack said softly. He pressed a finger to his temple. "It teaches you to keep something up your sleeve."  
  
There was silence in the room, as all of them thought about Jack, about the genius he rarely revealed but that he must be to be the man in the stories, to have survived such adventures. It was hard to remember, knowing Jack as they did, that he was indeed a dangerous man to be enemies with.  
  
Jack cracked his knuckles and continued rather guiltily.  
  
"Also, I slept with the village chief's daughter and didn't want Ana-Maria to find out. Thought something's were better kept under the hat." He added, tipping his own hat to enforce the point, and strolled out airily onto deck.  
  
Once on deck, he allowed a grin to form on his face. It was always fun to play to a crowd like that. He had almost forgotten. He stuck his fingers in the waist of his pants, whistling cheerily as he wandered down the deck.  
  
"Under my hat, up my sleeve." He said softly to himself. "Are those mixed metaphors?" He shrugged, and looked around, to check that no one had heard the great Jack Sparrow say metaphor. Above his head, a parrot fluttered by, and it screeched.  
  
"Dead men tell no tales," Jack looked up at the sound, recognising Cotton's parrot, and saluted to it.  
  
"Never a bigger bloody lie, my friend, never a bigger one." He muttered, and spat overboard.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Eve drew out maps and plans for traps, Gibbs' prepared blades for battle, the Ivory Grip dropped its dead crewmate into the swelling water and landed on the Ile de Muerta. Half way across the island, the Left Hand sat snugly in a hidden bay, welcomed by a motley group of villagers who reached out worn hands to touch the white gods.  
  
There was one more event worth noting, amongst the building schemes and mixed loyalties, as each ship prepared for the battle to come.  
  
Will and Jack climbed the mountain alone that day, crossing the thick jungle, Jack's eyes fiercely determined, while Will glanced apprehensively at the strange darkened trees and golden eyes that glinted in the bush.  
  
Jack knelt before the grave of his first mate, his face blank and unreadable. He remembered taking Ana-Maria by this grave, her nails digging into his shoulder blade. He remembered bringing Bootstrap up here, and they had bowed their heads for the friend that they had lost first to greed and then to Jack's hand.  
  
Will carried the shovel, his fingers coiling protectively around the wooden handle, watching Jack's unmoving back. Jack placed his hands on the moist dirt, digging his nails beneath it, his lips moving slightly, perhaps replaying a conversation in his head.  
  
"Jack?" Will said finally, glancing out into the night. The sun had set, the night was growing chilled and the moon hung forebodingly overhead. Jack nodded, as though reaching some decision, and bowed his head.  
  
"Dig." He said softly. Will took a step back as though Jack had turned into something truly frightening.  
  
"What. dig up his grave?" He stuttered. "Why Jack?" He asked more assured of himself.  
  
"Dig Will." Jack said blankly. Jack looked up to the dense trees and stood up. He held out his arm, looking up into the high branches. Will followed his gaze and bit his lip to stop himself gasping.  
  
Jack whistled softly, and the skeleton monkey dropped out of the trees like a wraith, his mouth opening as his tormented screech filled the night air. Jack touched the small skull in almost a daze, and exhaled.  
  
He turned to Will, a full shadow falling on his face so that he seemed a menacing figure, a mass of tangled black hair and glinted jewels, a deathly creature that matched the monstrosity on his arm.  
  
"We'll dig." Jack repeated, and took the shovel off Will. "There's something I need back that I buried with our old friend."  
  
"A medallion," Will swore under his breath. "The monkey." He said softly. "You knew," He said to Jack's hunched back. "You just knew the monkey was there, and it just came to you."  
  
"Aye, I knew," Jack said lowly. "I found a medallion around Barbossa's corpse. Why do you think I dragged him into the moonlight? I'm not as sentimental as they all think." Jack spat by Barbossa's grave. "I wanted to check the bastard was dead and buried, so I did it myself."  
  
"And the monkey?" Will asked, prompting Jack to finish the story. Jack patted the skeleton affectionately.  
  
"Old Jack here? I knew he was about, I guess I kinda felt it. Wasn't sure until I ran into Bootstrap, your father god rest him." Jack bowed his head. "When I met Bootstrap, I could feel the connection. The connection then curse gave us. I knew him, I knew I could have found him if I'd needed to, just like I knew I could find this monkey. We're connected by blood and greed, this monkey and I." Jack finished thoughtfully.  
  
"And Ana-Maria? How come you didn't know with her?" Will asked, almost defiantly. This he didn't want to believe, that this grotesque creature on Jack's arm was somehow connected to his dead father.  
  
Jack halted, and bowed his head thoughtfully.  
  
"I guess you allow yourself to be blinded by something's, Will." Jack said, shoving the shovel into the dirt, his face darkening. "You just, if you just pretend it was okay, then maybe it would be. You know what I mean Will?"  
  
"Aye, Jack, I do." Will agreed.  
  
"Now your going to help me dig this grave up, no more questions asked savvy?" Jack said, and hefted a pile of dirt at Will. "Cause I ain't bloody doing it by my onesies."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It was as though it had been ordained, as though the world stopped and held its breath, while everything else faded away like smoke, like irrelevant details.  
  
For outside the caves, the battle started with flashes of golden teeth and snarls.  
  
At the same moment, under the sea, Tyler's carelessly closed eyes were brushed open by the waves and he stared unseeingly up at the rising moon.  
Gibb's groaned as the icy cold kiss of a steel knife plunged into his stomach, and he fell to the sand while in the secret village on the Ile De Muerta, the locals danced around their fire, hoping for peace, praying that the war between these white gods would not destroy the world.  
  
Jack swung into the caves, his braids and beaded hair flying as he took a sharp corner, his eyes determinedly dark, his tongue darting over his lips, wetting the cracked salty skin. Against his warm brown chest, the medallion that had hung around Barbossa's rotting corpse's neck pressed coldly against his skin.  
  
Will, two steps behind him, rested his tanned hand on the hard hilt of his self crafted sword, his hair pulled back in a slick ponytail, the ready sidekick.  
  
Ana-Maria sat up on the carved chest filled with Cortez gold, her back arching almost unnaturally, her long dark legs bare and bent on the top of the chest. A rich white velvet cloak that did up around her neck sprawled out beneath her. She turned her head, her hair spinning dizzily behind her as though everything were in slow motion, as though she was swimming in inky black waters.  
  
At that moment their eyes met, and the spell broke with Ana-Maria's tinkled laughter.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	29. Rush of blood to the heart

Author note: An extremely long chapter, if I don't say so myself, so I hope you think it was worth it, the fights not quiet finished yet though, I am sorry to say. Lol, oh well, it'll have to be a two parter. Elizabeth Swan/Turner: I was so tempted, I was so so tempted, to make the sword, cuz it would have been so cool, but it went against my evil plans, lol, but I think Jack might make a few confessions to a extreamly injured Ana, (he will NEVER say those words) but you might have to wait till the next chapter to read them (I am so evil, hehe).  
  
Mallory: Yes mum. Ew. I can't believe you wrote mucus (shakes her head), anyway, yes, I'm feeling kinda better. well, better enough to go out tonight, I mean, stay at home and um, eat cheese cake and get better, yes that's what I'll be doing. Ahem. But I did take your advice and hid my computer, but then I got itchy, with all these thoughts and lines running around in my brain, so I was writing this chapter on paper, which is really illogical, cuz hello, have a computer. But here, I wrote an especially long chapter because of me being sick, and I hope you like it!  
  
Jack fan 2: How good is Don Juan? Omg! Did you see him with his shirt, and oh, and don't have words for how sexy he is, I'm like damn I wish I was his tutor, I would consent all day long. but seriously, I loved the line where he goes "There a four questions worth asking: What is sacred? What is the human spirit made of? What is worth living for? And what is worth dying for? The answer is the same: Love." Loved it, love him. I actually used that for inspiration for Jack's history in the Making of Jack Sparrow. Loved the picture, my god, love my computer now (gives it a hug). Front row tickets to the fight? Lol, I know, Ana and Jack finally get to battle it out, I'm actually quite surprised at the way it worked out. (I suck at writing action, I'm sorry everyone)  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
She pushed herself of the cold chest, dropping her head to one side. She tugged at the cord around her neck, allowing the cloak to fall in a puddle around her feet. She stepped gracefully away from the matt of velvet, her feet bare on the cold stones. She held out her arms, as though showing Jack herself. She was wearing just her white slip, her arms naked in the chilled night. No jewellery ordained her, not the cursed medallion or Jack's ring, and her hair fell around her naked shoulders.  
  
"Jack," She said, walking towards him, stepping daintily across the broken stream that ran through the passage. Will started, his eyes widening, as he saw the long scabbard and blade in Ana-Maria's hand. Jack held out a halting hand to Will, allowing Ana-Maria to come meet him.  
  
"You seem a bit inappropriately dressed, love," Jack said, his hand moving from Will, to beacon Ana-Maria to him, much as if she were a wild anima. Ana-Maria looked down at her dress and laughed, her fingers moving to clench the material mid thigh length.  
  
"Well," She said, tilting her head, only a few steps from Jack now, "You usually don't bring company Jack." She raised her eyebrows at the joke, and then nodded towards Will. "Why don't you let the boy run along?"  
  
Jack looked to Will as though considering this, the traces of a smile on his lips and one hand on his beard. His other hand went to his blade, which he drew lingeringly, a hefted from one hand to the other, weighing up her offer.  
  
Then he drove the blade straight into Ana-Maria's chest, a snarl parting his lips.  
  
"You might want to get onto the same page as the rest of us, love," He whispered, and kissed her head. "I didn't come here for a fuck." He released the handle of the blade and watched her stagger backwards.  
  
Her face crumbled with pain, her hands touching the hilt of the blade as though not believing it possible. She staggered again, her feet getting wet, her mouth opening wordlessly. She bit her lip, and then slowly drew the blade out of her stomach, ignoring the red slit the formed on the front of her slip. She threw the blade onto the rocks, and placed her hands on her hips.  
  
"Now Jack, you must have known that wasn't going to work." She said, and the moon passed out from behind a cloud, tearing away Ana-Maria's skin and all the beauty from her face.  
  
Will looked away in disgust at this self-imposed curse. Jack was still, though his hands went to the knife in his belt. The hum of the sword hitting the rock still resounded through the hall, as did Ana-Maria's laugher.  
  
"Jack, sweet sweet Jack, I suppose you think I should be afraid, or that I'm foolish not to be." She raised her arms, stepping back into the shadows, feeling the skin wrap back around her bones. "I mean, isn't this were you took down the great Barbossa?" She queried triumphantly. "How could I stand against you when such a fearsome man could not?" She finished sarcastically.  
  
Jack's sad look put her off slightly.  
  
She was so thin, he thought. Her skin barely covered her arms even in the shade, her eyes large and frightening in her head. She must have forgotten to eat; now she feel the need for it. So strong, and yet so very frail. He felt he could break her with his hands if he wanted to, this small doll like figure, but all he wanted was to hold her and somehow make this okay.  
  
"Where's Elizabeth?" Will said suddenly, pushing past Jack, and glowering at the black slip of a girl. For a moment something like compassion flashed over Ana's face, and Jack saw a weakness. She was redeemable. Then her face-hardened and she laughed again.  
  
"Don't like what you see, do you boy? I wonder if you'd like seeming your Elizabeth, stripped of her skin like me, a decrepit and haunting corpse to torment you waking days and sleepless nights." She spat. Jack noticed how the moonlight rested gently on her hand, turning it to bone and dirt, while the rest of her remained human. He watched this sadly, and noticed how she drew her other hand to her breast, her fingers clutching at the stray black strands of hair that rested there.  
  
"So she is like you." Will said softly, and his eyes dropped to the floor, his lips moving slightly, remorse and weariness evident in his face. Jack could tell he was thinking of the opium, the lovely bliss of it all, the green dreams that he had rode to escape this world. And I have bought him back, Jack thought sourly. I tried to save him, but again for my own ever- selfish reasons.  
  
"Would that make you feel better? That you could rescue her? That you had been able to hurt her enough to drive her to me? You're a fool, and an imbecile and not worthy of her." Ana-Maria said scathingly. Will reached for his sword and she laughed, gesturing to Jack's already fallen blade. "What'll you do? Carve me up? Thought you were a blacksmith, not a butcher." She glanced at Jack. "That title we reserved for Jack."  
  
"If you do not tell me," Will said lowly. "I will run you through so many times that I will give you a new definition of pain."  
  
"Wow," Ana-Maria said, smiling. She pulled a face. "I like this boy when he's off his leash." She looked at Jack's cold unmoving face, and turned away, raising a hand as if defeated. She pushed herself up on the chest, and for a second it looked like a coffin. "I grow weary of this. You think I'm a monster, don't you boy? I know Jack does."  
  
Will glanced at Jack, who was staring off into the distance as though he could not hear nor see. Will pushed back his shoulders and spoke with soft defiance.  
  
"We are the choices me make, cur," He said. Jack looked up at this insult to Ana-Maria but said nothing. Ana-Maria nodded, looking away for a moment, pursing her lips.  
  
"How true, Will. How true and naïve." She said, and laughed, but softly and sombrely, not the mad chaotic laugh of the day she had been hanged, but a mournful one. A laugh of someone who believes they are going to die.  
  
She whipped her hand over her nose, and pushed back her hair.  
  
"Do you know the story of Cortez Will? Did Jack ever tell it to you?" She watched his face, the tanned and ever innocent man he had grown to be. "Of course he did, you were there that first time. Do remember Jack, how we made love the night after you got the pearl back, how we talked of the past, of the future. Did we talk of love that night Jack, or was I just a fool?" She asked, and then shook her head, shaking these thought out.  
  
"That a long time ago." Jack said, obstinately staring at the flowing water in the cavern.  
  
"Time? I thought you said time didn't matter to us. Ten years, but no," She said, and closed her eyes for a second too long. "No, that's not what we came here to do, did we Jack Sparrow?" She scratched her head, and lipped her lips. "No, back to my story, Cortez's story. Do you remember? Blood money, for Cortez's ambitious men, who were cursed because of their greed." She paused and leant forward.  
  
"Do you think, honestly Will, that Elizabeth was ever greedy? Or the unborn child within her?" Will's head snapped up at that.  
  
"Child." He stammered. He looked to Jack, and Jack nodded. "How many secrets would you keep from me Jack."  
  
"The child may not be mine." Jack said gruffly. "The higher chance is that it would be yours, since you two were." He started, raising his hands and leering slightly towards Will.  
  
"Shut up, just shut up." Will said softly.  
"Cortez's gold was for the greedy and the weak, the weak like me," Ana continued, unfazed by the effect her words were having. "The curse was never made for mothers and children."  
  
"Mothers and children." Jack repeated, and the true horror of the curse on a pregnant woman became apparent to him. He raised his eyes in terror. Will glanced at Jack and then at Ana-Maria again.  
  
"Elizabeth was immune to it." The black girl finished, and shrugged. "It seemed there was no help for her here either."  
  
"Where is she? I want to be gone from this cursed place." Will said. "Lets get this done." Ana-Maria nodded, and took in a breath that she did not need.  
  
"In an apartment, above a bakery, in Mexico," She looked at Jack, and he raised his eyes, knowing what was to come. "I believe it was your home town Jack, where I put her. As I said, I provided for her like you couldn't, boy." She finished softly and Jack nodded as though he'd expected this.  
  
"Jack, we know what we came here for," Will said. Jack looked at him. Didn't Will know what Jack had truly come here for? The Pearl, the treasure, it was irrelevant. "Jack, we must end this." Will said lowly, pulling Jack's arm. He shook the old pirate until his eyes would meet the blacksmiths. They were a whirlwind of pain and sorrow. This reunion with Ana had shaken Jack more then he had expected.  
  
She still moved like his Ana, with catlike grace and her vipers tongue had not stilled. All the anger of the years, all her scorn and sharpness that he had loved as part of her essence, the meld of love and anger that drove her, it seemed to have been amplified. All that was left of her was her rage.  
  
"He's right Jack, this must be ended one way or another." She said, pushing herself of the chest, and picking up Jack's sword. She tossed it to him. Jack caught it, raising his eyes to the all-revealing heavens, and smiled briefly.  
  
"Can you feel this Ana?" He said, waving Will to the side. He ran his hand up the sheath of the sword, his haggard fingers stroking every etching, every scratch, his blackened nails tapping slightly on the golden hilt before he continued. "Feel this sword, the strength in it. The moon, I know you can feel that, but what else? Do you miss perhaps, the touch of the moon on your skin, rather then on your torn and bleached bones." He stepped forward, as if to embrace Ana-Maria.  
  
But she had stilled, her body stiff like a blackened marble statue, her eyes showing no recognition. He saw the weakness in her, the vulnerability, and he leap forward, hoping that this was an opening, that she could be reasoned with.  
  
"Ana, come back to me. Remember, when we left singapre, when you said you weren't sure you were going to come back to me?" He asked, coming closer. She nodded, her head bowed in thought. "Do it, come back to me. Do it now, while you still have the strength of mind." He entreated.  
  
"Come back to you?" She repeated, as though breathless. She laughed at him. "What a fool you are Jack. It seems you have come here to fuck after all." She raised her chin, and drew her blade, spinning it in her hand.  
  
Jack nodded slightly, grinning without mirth, and drew his own blade. His beads clanged as he automatically bent into a fighting pose. The muscles in his taunt shoulders pulsed as he tightened his grip on the sword, his body tensed, ready for Ana-Maria's attack.  
  
"Jack, they say you can only truly know a man through three things." Ana-Maria said, stepping into the moon's hollowing light. "The way they dance, the way they fuck, and the way they fight." Jack took this in and his moved his lips as if musing on this.  
  
"Well," He started, grimacing, but Ana-Maria lunged, her blade narrowly missing his chest, sliding in though his slightly raised arm and his body. Jack looked down with surprise and then back up again at Ana- Maria.  
  
"Shall we try two out of three? I don't believe we ever danced did we, Jack, and I don't remember how you fight. Would you like to remind me?" She said sharply. Jack raised his blade, automatically falling into the pattern of battle. Her sword met his, match for match; the clashes overhead caused a ringing through the caverns. Ana-Maria met each duck and attack of Jack's with a simple passiveness. He pushed her back, off the larger rocks and into the stream. Her bare feet stumbled occasionally on the smooth stones, but Jack was unwavering, and with the skill of a cat found each footfall in the stream easily.  
  
Finally, Ana-Maria tripped, falling back onto the rocks. Her legs fell from beneath her, her sword falling out of her hand, and her head hitting one smooth stone with a sickening crack. Jack, startled, paused, and held out his hand help her up. She snarled, spitting at him, sitting up without his help.  
  
"You think you can beat me Jack, with your fine words and your injured bloody pride. You've been wronged yes, and you wear it like a batch." She snapped, her fingers grabbing her small dagger, drawing it out of her belt. She leap forward, the bones in her neck snapping back into place with a fluid motion, and drove the blade into his thigh.  
  
Jack roared, staggering backwards. His fingers fell onto the emerald hilt of the dagger, and the pooling blood around the wound. Will yelled from somewhere behind him, and the world spun slightly.  
  
"Bitch." He spat, and strengthened his grip on his sword with on had. With the other, he drew out the blade in his leg, and paused, gazing at it. The emerald on the hilt, the carved patterns. How close that blade had come to killing him, so many many years ago, another time and place when Ana- Maria had been so mad at him.  
  
"This is mine." He said through clenched teeth. Then, spinning it in his left hand, threw it with calculated aim at Ana-Maria's chest, were it dug into her breast with its steel teeth.  
  
"And you've given it to me once again I see." She said, and tossed the dagger onto the rocks at Jack's feet. "So what's it to be Jack, I stab you, you stab me, until there's no blood left in you?" She asked, petulantly, stepping forward, becoming a skeleton again.  
  
"Maybe then we'll be equal," Jack spat, and attacked her again. He drove her up out of the stream, the blood from his thigh running down his leg, covering his breeches. "You bloodless bitch." He grunted, and wielded his sword with such enthusiasm that overcame his injury.  
  
"Jack!" Will cried, feeling foolish. "Do you need any help?" He asked, itching for a fight. Watching this proceeding was driving him mad, but he could not leave Jack alone with is immortal monster.  
  
"This is my battle Will. I think I can take care of one little girl." Jack cried over his shoulder, his face especially near to Ana-Maria. She laughed derisively. With her spare hand, she attacked him with her dagger. Court off guard, Jack threw his shoulder to block the blade, causing it to slice the skin there.  
  
"One little girl Jack?" She said, kneeing him in the groin and pushing him away from her. Jack groaned, turning his shoulder towards he defensively, as he clutched his royal jewels, wincing. The pain in his leg and in his shoulder throbbed. "I was a pirate while you were still chasing skirts in Mexico."  
  
"Ana, you should never kick someone in the.." He started reproachfully.  
  
"You're just drunken," She kicked him in the chest; grabbing his hair by the handful and pulling him back to expose his neck and his face. "Indulgent, foolish buffoon. You're not better then me, I could destroy you." She said, kicking him again. She released Jack, and he feel to the floor, his leg aching. Something felt broken. His ribs ached from where she had kicked him, and he had not the strength at the moment to hold himself up right. He crawled away from her, his leg dragging on the stone floor. His fingers scrabbled on the rocks, his blade having fallen away.  
  
Ana-Maria watched his halted process with scorn. He was halted by the stone wall with he reached, using his strength to twist, arching his back, until he fell into an upright sitting position, his eyes half closed with pain.  
  
"Not immortal, are you, the great bloody Jack Sparrow?" She said, stepping daintily forward, the bottom on her dress still wet, her hair falling over her shoulders and across her skin above her bosom.  
  
"Not all of us have the trick of stealing jewels." He wheezed. His strength was coming back, but his leg was troubling him. He gripped the gash on his thigh, a long scratch, the blood flowing now sourly, matting his breaches to his leg. Ana-Maria stared down at him, her face twisting between contempt and anguish. He ran his tongue over his teeth, checking that they were all there, his face turning away as he winced with pain.  
  
"Ana," He said faintly. "Come here."  
  
But she was as unmoving as the dead.  
  
"Where is your plan Jack? Did you have none when you came here? You thought that your presence was enough to melt my heart, did you my dear Jack? You will die here." She said, almost as though this could upset her.  
  
"If I die here, I die by your hand. I always said you would be the death of me." He said laughing, remorseless even in his pain. "The details, they matter little."  
  
"You romantic fool." She said, but without the bitterness of earlier. "Why? Why would you do this? You're a fool." She stepped back a step, as his foolishness was infectious, and touched her frail dead hair and dead face. "You should have come for the pearl, the title of captain. You shouldn't have come back for me."  
  
"But I did come back for you. Come back to me." He whispered again, as though he was loosing the train of the conversation. His finger grip on the stone failed, his fingers becoming loose.  
  
"Come back to you? Come back to you?" She whispered, and the repeated in a low shriek. She bent down so that he could look into her face, his head lolling slightly. But his eyes were not hazed, and he was pretending.  
  
She could not know that, and she was close enough to drive the blade into his heart if she had so wished. Behind them, Will moved silently, he could be still no longer.  
  
"Aye, Ana, tis what I want."  
  
"What you want?" She repeated, and then her face fell into an angry wonder. She raised her hand and struck the pirate full across the face. He grimaced, rubbing his cheek as he had done a million other times. "Do you think I care what you want? Come back to you? To being what, exactly? What do you think I am?"  
  
"You're Ana-Maria," He said groggily. She pushed herself up to standing, using her knees to gain strength.  
  
"I've heard what they've said, in the bars and the quiet nights. I am Jack Sparrow's whore," She yelled defiantly, flinging out her arms as she pronounced this, her dark eyes tearing into Jack's soft flesh. "The black nameless whore in his bed when he come back from his battles. Is that all I've been reduced to? A whore, a toy for you bed, a joke to pirates all over the Caribbean. You, you go out and your ego and your fame grows each day, with each battle we undertake, but I am forever in your shadow. You, you robbed me. You robbed me of my identity." She knelt again, clasping his chin in her hand, her lips moving so close to him that the edges of his beard tickled her skin.  
  
"I will never come back to being the great Jack Sparrow's side kick." She said succulently. Jack looked at her, and then dropped his head back against the stone, and started to laugh.  
  
"Ah, Ana," He said, shaking his head. "If I'd known it was simple ambition that drove you, I would have left you to rot."  
  
"We'll see who rots." Ana-Maria said defiantly, and lifted up her dagger. But Will was there behind her, and he whacked the hilt of his sword on Ana- Maria's temple, sending her reeling away from Jack Sparrow.  
  
She lay on the floor, her temple bleeding from the blow, which would have surely killed her if she had been mortal. Her fingers scrabbled at the rock, but she rolled over, bending her knees, and feeling the rays of the moon on her, relishing again in her own immortality.  
  
Will held out a hand, and helped Jack clumsily to his feet. Jack leant on Will's shoulder heavily, and the pair hobbled to where Ana-Maria lay, her bones exposed for all to see, and Jack tried to imagine that skull smiling and failed miserably. He pushed Will away, and tested his leg. He could walk. The blood had clotted now, and the pain was, well, bearable.  
  
"Where is it?" He said wearily. Ana-Maria arched her back on the floor, a low giggle coming out of her.  
  
"Where is what, Jack?" She said shrewdly. Jack growled, pushing her knees apart and crouching between them. His hands clutched the bone of her legs aggressively. His hat had fallen off, and his hair flowed free and jaggedly around his face, his good luck charms and tokens seeming frivolous in the face of this moving skeleton.  
  
"Where is the medallion?" He said angrily.  
  
"Why the hell should I tell you?" She said, pushing herself of the floor, so that they were face to face. Jack snarled.  
  
"Damn you Ana. Stop this now." He snapped and grabbed her up in his arms, skeleton and all, holding her to his chest. She screamed and bit his arm like a cornered animal. Jack threw her frail form over his shoulder, dragging her kicking and screaming to the Cortez chest. He slammed her on top of the marble, were she lay stunned for a second. She sat up, ready to start another verbal war with him.  
  
Will had not moved, his face showing the shock he felt at Jack's violence.  
  
Jack gripped the marble top, and with almost miraculous strength, yanked it off, so that Ana-Maria slid off it, and fell back onto the golden medallions. The marble lid flew out of Jack's arms, and crashed on the rocks, shattering as it did so that pieces fell into the stream and in- between the endless rocks and gold.  
  
Jack grabbed Ana-Maria's skeleton ankles, the moonlight directly above them, and pulled her towards him, so that she lay flat out on the golden bed. He paused, breathless for a moment, glowering down at her. Ana-Maria was too stunned to move.  
  
Then he gestured to Will, who threw him his personally crafted sword. Jack lifted it up and drove it into where Ana-Maria's soft skin should be, the gap around her abdomen, covered by so little white material, down between the medallions, until the tip of the blade hit the marble bottom and chipped.  
  
Ana-Maria howled, arching her back around the sword, her fingers tensed as she reached out to touch it. She could not move, skewered as she was by the sword. She glanced desperately up at the sky, and turned her head to Jack.  
  
"What are you worried about love?" Jack said softly. "Skeleton's don't bleed." He said, and then paused. He had those words before, and they passed out of his lips as though through a dream.  
  
"Jack don't. Release me, before a cloud passes over the moon." She said quickly, breathlessly, and for the first time that night, panic was obvious on her face. She arched her back again, as though trying to get her bones not to touch the gold, as though it was poison.  
  
Jack leant on the edge of the chest contemplatively.  
  
"Now, love, your going to tell me where that pretty medallion is, Savvy?" He said sourly. "Because I believe it's on your person." Ana-Maria's skinless face quivered, her dry cracked hair falling over the bones, and she turned her face away from Jack. Her hands dropped from the sword, to the white fabric of her torn dress, up her rib cage, to where her heart should be.  
  
"It is." She said brokenly.  
  
"Where?" Will said, shocked. Ana-Maria turned to look at him, so much pain evident in her eyes.  
  
"It's here." She said mournfully, touching her heart. She pulled back the material on her chest, to reveal her ribs, and beneath them the twisted gold chain, which she had carried inside her body for the last three months. The glittering medallion lay there undisturbed.  
  
And coiled around it, another chain. And on the end of the chain, a ring, a small gold band with an ornate pattern of roses and thorns on the outside, speckled with diamonds. With a sparrow carved on the inside.  
  
"Its here Jack," She said, drawing out the medallion and the ring which where entangled. "I keep them here, inside my heart." She leant up as she put them in Jack's hands. "But you see Jack," She whispered in his ear. "I no longer have one."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	30. This is goodbye

Author note: Am a bit short on time, so I will just say THANK YOU to all reviewers, and people who have stuck thus far with me... lol, today is my results day, so I'm thinking me doing this before checking them probably says a lot about my priorities.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
"I don't believe you." He so softly, stroking her dry hair, her skinless face, his lips pressing against that mouth he remembered as so soft and full of life. He remembered biting that lip until it bled, until their kisses tasted of tangy metallic blood. He touched her cold shoulders, and the gold medallions beneath them.  
  
In this form, she was truly like the treasure she lay on, cold and irresistible to all who looked upon it.  
  
But then, he'd always thought of her as the greatest treasure.  
  
"Do it Jack." Will said softly. "She can't be redeemed." Jack noticed how Ana-Maria's hands lay flat and lifeless by her side, how with her eyes closed there was nothing to reveal she had ever lived. Jack knelt next to her, stroking the bones of her arms. The moon faltered for a moment, so that her face and shoulders were skin again, and she gasped, panic and fear obvious in her eyes. But she stilled beneath his touch.  
  
His touch felt like goodbye.  
  
Jack stood up and turned to Will.  
  
"I can't." He started, and then groaned. Pain spread out from his back, a burning of the flesh and sharp ebbs from the nerves. He looked down, confused.  
  
Ana-Maria's blade, driven into the back of his stomach.  
  
He turned around brokenly, his fingers touching the blood welling on his back where the blade had bit. Ana-Maria stood, the sword Jack had skewered her with still in the same position, upright and unmoving, but she had climbed over it, letting the handle and hilt knock against the bones of her hips as she stood up.  
  
She was human now, skin and emotion evident, and for a moment she looked as startled as Jack, as though she had been stabbed also. She took a step backwards, her eyes wide; looking at the hand that had held the knife like it did not belong to her.  
  
Jack stumbled towards her, and then fell forward, collapsing in her arms. Ana-Maria tried to keep him upright, but fell with him, his head falling into her lap, his eyes closed.  
  
"Ow." He said after a moment. Ana-Maria ran her hands through her hair, and one hand then lingered above Jack's head, as though she couldn't decide whether to touch him. The mental conflict in her face was hard to watch.  
  
Jack looked up at her, blood still on his fingers, grimacing.  
  
"Here again are we Ana," He wheezed. He reached up and touched her lips with his fingertips. Ana-Maria closed her eyes. "Think you missed my vitals love." He added as an after thought.  
  
"Jack!" She moaned. "Why? Why do you still do this? Why can't you hate me?" She touched his face. "Jack, I'm trying to kill you."  
  
Jack shrugged.  
  
"Tis a funny position we've gotten ourselves into, isn't it?" He said. He closed his eyes, and Will in took a breath. Ana-Maria touched his eyelids respectfully.  
  
"Are you going to die on me Jack Sparrow?" Ana said curiously. Jack moved his lips, musing on this, his eyes still closed.  
  
"Maybe." He opened one eye. "Is that what you really what?" He asked jokingly. Ana-Maria looked into his face and pressed her lips against his. Then she pushed him away, getting to her feet. Jack got up too, in short, halted movements. He reached out to touch her stomach. "See, all these wounds heal."  
  
"I'm not going back." She said, backing away from Jack slightly. Her blade fell out of her hand. "I can't kill you, I can't do this but I can't come back, Sparrow. There's nothing for me back there." She said suddenly.  
  
"There's me." He said softly.  
  
"Not enough." She said quickly, and Jack turned away from her. He reached into his pocket where the monkey blood had dried on the medallion. In his other hand he held Ana-Maria's medallion, caked in his own blood. He stepped around the chest, so the other side, where the lid lay in shattered pieces. He held both medallions in one hand, staring at them. His other hand stayed pressed on his back.  
  
"Ana, do you remember that night where you nearly died?" She looked up through her hair, her face dark.  
  
"Lets just finish this. I don't want any more walks down memory lane. You want my blood, here it is." She said, holding out her arm. Jack waved it away.  
  
"That night, Ana, I thought I'd lost you. You bled so much, everywhere, like you wanted to fill the world with you blood. I thought for a while there that you could." He said. He took his hand away from his back, where it was covered in blood. He looked at it and held it up to the moon light laughing.  
  
"Funny thing about blood, isn't it? That a curse can rely on it; a person can be defined by it. I remember becoming blood brothers with the boys in Mexico, pricking out fingers with needles and sharp sticks, rubbing the swells of blood together. They were closer to me then the family who treated me like scum," Ana-Maria's eyebrows furrowed, as she looked from the medallions in Jack's hand, to the blood on the other. A thought was forming.  
  
"Jack." She said softly, warily holding out her hand. Jack bit his lip contemplatively.  
  
"I gave you blood that night, blood from my own veins. What pumps through your heart is essentially what pumps through mine. Surely, I thought that night, that you'd do the same for me. For what is a bit of blood between us Ana?" He asked. "Do you want to find out?"  
  
Ana-Maria backed away from the chest, her eyes wide with fear. Her arms clutched her chest, and she looked so frail, so delicate. Jack watched her wordlessly, waiting for her answer, but none came.  
  
The medallions made a clanging sound as they returned home.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Outside, the battle continued unaware. Gibbs' heaved himself from his sandy grave, his sword drawn, his face long. The beach was covered in men battling; war cries and shrieks filled the air. Eve and Isabel leapt into battle, their hair pulled back into long ponytails, their faces set and determined. Isabel wore red paint dusted across her cheeks, and with her tanned skin, she was reminiscent of the Amazon women of old. Eve cut down pirate after pirate, her thin blade more then once digging straight through a pirates stomach and out into the cool night air behind him.  
  
Ana-Maria gasped, and staggered backwards.  
  
Her heels touched the back wall of the cavern, her hands feeling the smoothness of the rock.  
  
She inhaled.  
  
Her thin dress brushed against her thighs, and made an almost hushed whishing sound.  
  
The moon hung lazily overhead, its incandescent light falling on her with soft grace. The night wind blew in from the sea, ruffling her hair ever so slightly, kissing her shoulders, her bare arms, her face, her lips.  
  
She in took another breath, and heard the trickling of the water in the pools, the sound of the waves crashing outside. She tasted the slight salty tang in the air, the coolness of the cavern air, the layer of sweat upon her forehead, the damp clinging of her skirt to her calves.  
  
Another breath, and she could hear Will's breathing, the slight hum of the medallion's in the chest where they had landed, Jack's sharp intake of breath as the cut on his leg started bleeding again.  
  
She could feel the air filling her lungs, and every hair that stood up on her arms.  
  
She could see Jack's face, the worry and the anguish and the agonies she had caused. She could feel the bruises forming from the battle, though the deeper wounds had healed as if they never had been.  
  
"Ana-Maria?" Jack said, and she looked at his face dizzily. She remembered flashes of him, his calmness before a battle, his breathing in the night, the feel of his hands on her hips as he lifted her up...  
  
She raised a hand defensively blocking his face. She looked over to Will, who watched with sorrowful eyes. She realised she was crouching on the floor, her hair covering her face.  
  
The world spun.  
  
"Ana? Are you okay?" And his voice seemed to be coming from a mile off. Her hands flew to her ribs, which jutted out from her body like the skeleton she had become, and she rocked slightly in her hands.  
  
She in took another breath, feeling the dizziness pass.  
"Ana?" He said again, closer now, so close, she could see the blood on his trousers. She caused that. She looked up at him through her film of hair, gasping for breath like a wild thing.  
  
He held out his hand, and she took it, hesitantly.  
  
His fingers rubbed the palm of her hands reassuringly, and her face crumpled. She looked from his hand to his face, and then closed her eyes.  
  
"Oh god." She murmured. She saw Jack being thrown of the boat, saw the women she had killed on her reckless raids, felt the snap of her neck as she had been hung, remembered twisting the knife in Tyler's unsuspecting stomach. "Oh god." She said brokenly. "Oh dear god."  
  
It seemed like a bad dream, one she couldn't escape from. She remembered doing all those things, how it felt, but the memories felt different, as if they had happened to a different person.  
  
"It'll be okay love." Jack said, squeezing her hand. She looked at him, horror in her face.  
  
Then she dropped his hand, and ran, her feet making little noise on the cool stones.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
By dawn, the beaches were silent. The bodies of Ana-Maria's crew were dragged into a pile, and unceremoniously burnt. There was no victory cheers or celebrations. Too many of the bodies had come from the Left Hand, and many pirates were too worried about their own injuries.  
  
Gibbs' was the first to see Jack emerge from the cave. A distant figure, with a slightly too large white shirt being tugged at by the wind. His hat was askew, a pile of dark dreadlocks obscuring his face from view. But he was alive, and Gibbs' released a sigh of relief.  
  
He was struggling with something, dragging it with one hand, a large white chest, which Will was helping him carry. Gibbs' raised his hand to his face, blocking the rising sunlight. Gibbs' could see the glint of gold in the chest.  
In his other hand, Jack carried a large war hammer from the hoard.  
  
Jack waded out into the water. It was low tide, so for metres, the ocean did no more then caress his lower calves and lap at his ankles. The chest skittered along the sand, tugged at by the water, half floating and half sinking.  
  
Will followed wordlessly.  
  
When the water reached the beginning's of Jack's thighs, Jack dropped the chest, and rested his hands on his waist for a minute. He panted softly in the early light of the day, the heat already making the air thick and wet. Jack could feel the calming little waves around his knees, his ocean. The gold medallions glinted at Jack menacingly, mockingly, and Jack's face- hardened.  
  
He raised his war hammer, and began to smash the chest.  
  
Will took a couple of steps back, and watched the medallions jump and shake under the old pirates blows. The white marble splintered, cracks forming along its smooth surface, and for a moment it seemed as though the ocean itself stilled.  
  
But Jack did not. He brought his hammer down again and again on the chest, his lips drawn as though holding his breath. Then with his last blow, he opened his mouth and roared.  
  
The chest broke with a shudder, its medallions eagerly flowing into the ocean, its white marble sinking to the bottom to rest amongst the sand silently.  
  
Jack tossed away the war hammer with its jewelled handle and gold plating. It glinted in the sun light for a moment, and then fell away beneath the water.  
  
Jack started kicking at the sand, at the piles of medallions, at the small pirates hoard he was thus forsaking.  
  
His roars and curses could be heard from the beach where Gibbs' stood, shaking his head with a telltale beginning of a smile on his lips.  
  
When Will touched Jack's arm, the pirate stopped, proudly throwing his jangled jewellery over his shoulder, and adjusting his hat. Will said something, his arm still on Jack's, and Jack nodded as though comforted.  
  
The two men walked pensively back to shore.  
  
By midday, the tide had risen enough to cover the medallions, and Jack's deserted axe. Over the next few days, the waves would tug those medallions apart, dragging some of them onto shore where other bead-eyed monkeys would pick them up, or they would be pulled further into the oceans embrace, to join the dead pirates at the bottom of Davy Jones locker.  
  
Not another person would be able to open Cortez's chest, or to take a medallion from its jealous and possessive grip. Its pieces would be worn down by the sand and sun until it was forgotten. A treasure and a menace, claimed back by the ocean.  
  
And as Jack strode back onto land, the victorious winner of a battle he would have preferred not to fight, he knew that this time he truly had broken the Aztec curse.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Jack, the Black Pearl is yours." Gibbs' said softly. But it sounded like a mockery, an echo of Ana-Maria's own words, and it made it all the more bitter.  
  
As Jack took the helm tentatively, his face softened for a moment, and the tension in his body eased.  
  
And suddenly the wind rose, and the clouds that had drawn out across the heavy sky broke. Sleet and rain together bombarded down on the captain, the thick heavy feeling before a storm broken.  
  
For the first time in what felt like or perhaps had been months, it rained on Captain Jack Sparrow. The heat had finally broken.  
  
Jack touched his hat with one hand, noting the torn and bedraggled feathers there. The other hand rested lazily on the wheel, and he squinted into the distance. Then he shrugged, turning his eyes away from the hazy and grey horizon. Above him, a sea gull battle in the winds, but its voice was drowned by the waves slapping the Pearl.  
  
Jack reached for his rum, and murmured to himself the words that had been spinning around in his head like some sick mantra.  
  
"It's over. It's done."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * HA! Did you really think I would leave it there? 


	31. To us, and what we can never leave behin...

* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It's over. It's done.  
  
How those words ate at him.  
  
Across the inky black night oceans of the Caribbean, Jack was a relentless guardian. He slept on deck, under the watchful eye of the stars, his bed hard oak and his sheets the soft spray of the ocean. But he slept little, and though his outward appearance and demeanour did not change, he had.  
  
In the ports of Bangkok, painted whores would sit upon his lap, or cling softly to him in the sticky night on scented dance floors. And he would obligingly run his hand down those silken thighs, but he would pause, touching their eager faces almost sorrowfully. He would turn his eyes away, his lips away from theirs, choosing to kiss the soft of their neck, or touch the smooth grace of their arms.  
  
In Tortugua, he walked through the streets like the cat king, laughing and joking, a woman on each arm, his tobacco-stained fingers drumming on their waists with impatience. And in the bars, he would play cards with over the scantily clad body of a woman, and would make crude jokes of conquests past. But often enough, by the end of the night, he could be found alone on the debris-covered beaches, staring unseeingly at his love, the sea.  
  
He would fall back against the sand, his head cushioned by his old hat, and he would watch the stars, searching for perhaps a change in them. Or a change in himself. But he would not close his eyes, for then he would see her face, her scowls, her lean body, her mouth. And he wished he could silence his ears, because the sea seemed to whisper her old words to him, and the wind seemed to bring him caresses from her.  
  
He felt like he was going mad.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
The sun drew dappled shadows on the small house with its sunset coloured yellow walls and wide white windows. The smell of bread and honey infiltrated the small house, and a gentle breeze tugged at the long pale blue curtains that were tied back to reveal the sparkling blue ocean in all her glory.  
  
Outside, on the streets of the Mexican town, woman with bronzed skin swayed to the rhythm of their quickened heart beats in the heated day, carrying washing baskets and water buckets. Men playing cards or lounging in shadowed doorways yelled out catcalls at these women, white teeth flashing in the shades. The women with their throaty voices and high giggles would call out scolding responses, or turn in poses to give a more suggestive view.  
  
The soft leather fall of the young man's boot caused little notice in the small town, though one or two eyebrows were raised by the younger women, who giggled behind sun-drenched hands.  
  
The landlady who owned the bakery understood little of Will's broken attempts at her language, but she waved him on up, pressing the key to the apartment into his hand and blessing him. She pressed her flour covered fingers to his checks and murmured the name Elizabeth with such joy that brought shudders of anticipation down Will's spine.  
  
He mounted the cracked stone stairs slowly, savouring the moment.  
  
The door was pushed open without a sound, and the breeze ruffled his feathered hat as he entered the room. His feet made no sound. The room was small, meticulously clean, with a fleecy throw thrown over the couch and embroidered cushions nestled in the arms chairs.  
  
The kitchen and the lounge flowed into one another easily, with only a pillar and a breakfast table to divide them. From the kitchen window, rolling dull green hills could be seen beneath the blazing sun.  
  
And the sound of someone singing quietly ricocheted of the walls. Will paused, closing his eyes, hearing for the first time in seven months the sound of Elizabeth's voice.  
  
Will ran his fingers across the kitchen bench, careful for his footsteps to make no noise. He followed the voice, down a thin corridor, past the door to a small bedroom with a lemon yellow bedspread, and a dark room with a white crib in the middle, to the half closed door at the end of the little hallway.  
  
He pushed open the door, running his tongue over his parched lips, his eyes cast down, a flush of emotions on his cheeks. He in took a breath as though intoxicated.  
  
His dark brown eyes saw the shape of Elizabeth's bare shoulders, her arched back as she bent to wash her feet. He could see the press of her spine against her skin, the loose damp ringlets of her blonde hair court back in a loose ponytail. She dripped water from her sponge down her body, moving in such a way to reveal the curve of her swollen breasts, the distended shape of her pregnant belly. How awkward it was for her, to reach to wash her ever-small feet.  
  
Will's face shuddered, his entire body feeling faint, and he must have made a small sound, because Elizabeth paused, craning her neck around to find the source of the noise.  
  
Their eyes met, and a soft wordless noise burst from Elizabeth's lips. The sponge slipped from her hands, as her hands went instinctively to her enlarged stomach. Her lips parted as she gasped for air again, the shock having drained all air form her body.  
  
She picked up her white dressing gown, draping it over her soaped body, her lean legs stretching as she stood.  
  
Will took off his hat, bowing his head, not looking at her, their old awkwardness and a strange, formal prudence between them. It was as though he had never seen or had no right to see her naked body.  
  
He looked up again, at her pregnant form, her angular face, her immense eyes that had so bothered and bewildered him in those hot years of his youth. Silently, she held out a hand, beckoning him closer. He came immediately, grabbing her hands in his, and staring intently into her face, feeling her breath on his lips. He looked into her eyes, and thus into his heart.  
  
He fell to his knees on the cool tile, and leant his head on her swollen stomach, shuddering with the emotion the wracked his body. Elizabeth gasped, her head tilted heavenwards, and her hands found his neck, pushing through his hair, marvelling in the texture, the feeling of him.  
  
"My love," Will murmured, and Elizabeth wept.  
  
In the quiet morning, in that small town in Mexico where the great Jack Sparrow was born and raised, in the dappled sun light of that tiny bathroom, Elizabeth stroked Will's hair reassuringly, while he wept into her thin frame. And as he turned his face upwards to gaze up at her, he could feel the thud of the child's heart beat through the flannel material, and he smiled through his tear-touched lashes.  
  
And it was going to be all right, the storm had broken and the sunny days had returned.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
It was African village that Jack eventually found himself in, quiet and calm, barely touched by white people. Cliffs and small inlets surrounded its cove, and it had been impossible for Jack to reach by boat, so he left it behind, trekking across Africa of foot and on his luck. He hadn't really known where he had been going, so lost he was. In his days, he drank and followed bar gossip, searching aimlessly. Often he would come close to giving up, and would turn his eyes to the sea, and swear to forsake his quest and relinquish himself to the arms of the wind and sea again, to have that alone as his love.  
  
But each night, as sleep touched his head in the early moments of the morning in the dingy rooms he rented, he would dream of her and know his quest could not end. He wore the ring he had given her on a chain around his neck, and in the arms of the heated African woman he found, who shared her soft skin and her charcoal hair, her name escaped his lips like a promise.  
  
And he dreamt of her as he had on the stone beaches of France, the slopes of Cypress, of London in all its fall glory and in Mexico's warm nights. He dreamt when he saw the stars.  
He saw her face in the ocean.  
  
And now, away from the embrace of the Pearl and all her promise, he sought her. So far from the Caribbean he loved, the life he loved, for her. He was a pirate to his core, and now he had lost that to.  
  
His dreams led him, dreams of her in this charcoal country that was her birthplace, of her in beaded tops and with clanging gold bracelets, in a house, alone, without him.  
  
He'd scoured the coast in the pearl, raiding villages; searching for the cliffs she had described when they had lain in their berth together so many years ago, for the small village she had told of in her tails.  
  
But he couldn't find it, not with fifty pirates breathing down his neck, so he had left the Pearl, sworn over his position (temporarily of course) to Gibbs (who had always been true in his heart if not in his actions, always loved his strange half crazed captain like a wayward son). He had set off on foot across his hostile country, following a dream.  
  
Men could do more crazy things in life; then follow a dream.  
  
And now he had found it, the dilapidated buildings no more the shanties and its dirt roads. He saw the people, and it was as if he had seen them before, flashes in his mind while his slept, their dark faces and bright white eyes somehow familiar.  
  
Two boys, young and poorly fed but fit like only the young can be, lead him up the dirt path away from the town, through the trees that scratched at Jack's face, past the beach with its fire pits and smooth white sand, and back into the scrub. To her house.  
  
It was raining now, pouring from the skies, with thunder clipping the silence of the night and lightning burning the sky. But the sky was strangely cloudless of the horizon, and dark mauve and pink from a dazzling setting sun. Jack took of his hat to salute it and then continued.  
  
The two boys left, their pockets slightly heavier, talking in their thick heavy language that Jack could not comprehend, nor did he try to. He heard their voices disappearing into the night and paused.  
  
He stood on the threshold of the clearing, staring at the small house, the tiny windows with white curtains that revealed a soft glow within. The rain poured down on him, but he stood in the shadows, building up his courage. He took a swig of rum pensively, a conflict going through his mind.  
  
He felt like turning and leaving. He felt like running away.  
  
For the first time in his life, Captain Jack Sparrow's courage failed him.  
  
But something stronger drove him, and perhaps it was love. Love for the too strong woman in that house.  
  
And he entered the house silently.  
  
Ana-Maria stood by the stove, her back to him. She wore a white dress, long and sensual. It was backless, revealing her beautiful painted back, with a long gold chair running down her spine to connect at the top to the white material that was tied around her neck. Her arms were bare except for jangling white bracelets that clanged and sparkled as she stirred the thick soup she was making. She leant forward to the small pot plants on the windowsill, pulling out the herb leaves and dropping them into the soup.  
  
On the small table close to the centre of the one room house, there was a place set, a bowl and a spoon, a vase full of red flowers and a lantern that lit the room. A fire was lit in the small hearth near the bed, a book open with its pages creased on the chair near the fire.  
  
The rain beat down on the roof, a soft, sobering sound.  
  
How Jack wanted to gather her up in his arms like silk or scented water, and tear of that expensive dress like it was no more then rags, take her on the dirt free floor of the house.  
  
He coughed to reveal his presence, his head bowed bashfully.  
  
Ana-Maria spun around, pressing her hands on the counter behind her, one hand automatically scrabbling for her blade. Recognition flashed on her face, and her mouth dropped open slightly.  
  
"My god." She panted, her eyes wide, panic still evident on her face. She bought her hand up to cover her mouth, as though it had betrayed her, and her eyes moistened with tears that she would be too proud to shed. Her other hand joined the one on her mouth, and she covered her nose and then her eyes, bending her face into her hands. Then she clasped them together, and bent her head as though in prayer, staring down at the floor.  
  
Jack shifted, worry evident on his face.  
  
Ana-Maria looked up, her face clearing as she gained control of her emotions.  
  
"How did you find me?" She asked clearly, moving her hands to hug her body protectively. Jack looked up at her, and the millions of answers he had had to that question died on his lips. Answers that were fit for hero's and lovers. Answers like 'There's no where in the world where I wouldn't find you,' or 'neither time nor place nor foul deed could ever separate us.'  
  
He shrugged, bringing a cigarette to his mouth.  
  
"All I had to do was look, love." He said softly. Ana-Maria ran her hand through her hair, turning back to her soup, blowing out the small flame. She carried it carefully over to the table, and poured it into the waiting bowl. Then she placed the pot back on the counter, and turned to look at him thoroughly.  
  
"I suppose that was a stupid question really." She said after the pause. "I should have asked why you came to find me." She murmured with all seriousness. She looked at him with quiet resolve in her eyes, a weary acceptance. Jack smiled and shrugged again.  
  
"Blame it on curiosity love." He smirked, and rubbed his hand over his beard. "How did you get off that island? We must have searched it head and tail for you." Ana-Maria watched him soberly.  
"Curiosity?" She repeated, and turned to face the fire. "I guess I got lucky Jack." The effect of her saying his name was great on the old pirate, but she did not see it, so intent on looking at the flickering flames. "I took a row boat and rowed out into the middle of the ocean, prepared to die. Suicide seemed like the noble thing to do in such a situation. But the noble thing to do is often the hardest thing to do. I waited, waited for death to claim me as I now knew it could, but I didn't want it. I was too cowardly to let myself die. So I picked up the oars and continued rowing, promising myself that the ocean would kill me anyway, whether I wanted it or not." She paused, and then rubbed her hands together, fidgeting.  
  
"I fell asleep gazing at the stars," Remembering your promise, she added silently, but this was not the place to say that. She had no right to say such things to him. "When I woke, I found myself being rescued by a smugglers ship who were short of a hand on deck. It was that simple really. There's no great story behind it, no mystery. But then, there rarely is, is there Jack?" She said mockingly, and exhaled loudly.  
  
Jack licked his lips, and dropped his cigarette. It tasted foul in his mouth.  
  
Ana-Maria looked at him, and then her eyes narrowed, and she tutted.  
  
"Jack, you're soaking wet." She exclaimed suddenly. "What do you want to do, catch your death? Come here you fool of a pirate." She said angrily, grabbing his hands and pulling over to the fire. Both paused at this once so normal contact, but Ana-Maria did not let it stop her, rather just dropped her eyes, blushing ever so slightly. He stood by the fire, dumbly, silent for once in his bloody career.  
  
Ana-Maria looked up into his face, her hands still clasping his and closed her eyes for a minute. She dropped his hands, and ever so slowly started undoing the top buttons on his shirt. Jack remained immobile, staring down into her face with grave intensity.  
  
She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, down those arms she knew so well, and a small shiver passed through her. Jack, ever so slowly, taking his que from her, reached up to touch her shoulder. Ana-Maria turned to look at his hand, and her eyes welled up again. She pushed her hair behind her ears, and turned away from him, back towards the kitchen, to the small chest of drawers she had beside the bed.  
  
"I'm sure I've got a shirt so where that would fit you, it you'll just hang that one up, and sit by the fire so your trews dry off," She rambled, trying to be busy, trying not to think. She turned and threw him a long white shirt that she usually slept in, her eyes not meeting his.  
  
"Ana," He said ever so quietly.  
  
"Have some soup, it'll warm you up, I'm a terrible cook though, be warned, and there's some rum in the pantry that I've been saving for a rainy day, which hey look, it is." She continued, looking everywhere but at him. Jack threw on the shirt quickly, doing up but three of the buttons.  
  
"Ana, I need, we need to talk. Just come here, talk to me Ana." He said, almost pleadingly.  
  
"I, I don't know," She stumbled over her words, closing her eyes. "I don't know what you thought you'd achieve by coming here."  
  
"Achieve?" Jack repeated disbelievingly. "Ana, I came here for you." He said obstinately. "I've scoured the bloody country and the world too looking for you." And that was right, it was what he should have said all along, the words that would make things right that he could never say.  
  
Ana-Maria shook her head, her whole body shuddering, causing the bracelets on her arm to jangle.  
  
"Why? Why you fool!" She cried. "I tried to kill you, on numerous occasions if I remember. I stole everything valuable to you, your title, the Pearl, your hat." She finished lamely. "How can you, why do you." She lost her words there, just glowering at him, torn between anger and incredulity. She buried her face in her hands again.  
  
Jack covered the distance between them in three short steps. He took her in his arms as he had wanted to do earlier, but cautiously, with deliberate care as not to frighten her. His big hands touched the small of her back and he looked into her eyes so that should would understand the real truth and clear meaning behind his words.  
  
"Because you're mine. You'll always be mine. And I don't like losing what is truly mine."  
  
"Jack, I.." She started, but he stopped her, pressing his finger to her lips. Then he kissed her, a small brush of skin on skin, nothing more, nothing she wasn't ready for. Then he pulled back, his eyes perplexed.  
  
"Ana, I know how much you needed for me to say this, how I kept it from you, but you know that I .." This time it was her turn to stop him, she covered his mouth with her hand and shook her head.  
  
"Don't say it, Jack." She said quickly. Jack frowned, confused, but nodded. She needed time, time to believe she was worthy of everything he had to offer. "Come here." She said, pulling him to the small, single berth that served as her bed. She peeled off the shirt he had newly put on, this time taking care to touch the skin on his shoulders, on his arms, his tattoos and scars she knew as well as she knew her own.  
  
Then she pulled her hair over one shoulder, her arm twisting behind her head, pulling loose the catch that held her dress on, so that it fell in a puddle of white material and gold to the floor, revealing her flushed skin. She coiled her arms around his neck, and her lips brushed against his ear.  
  
His own hands brushed the softness of her back, the coolness of her skin, the fineness of her hair. They fell to her thighs, pulling her up around his waist in one fluid movement, while she kissed his neck possessively. He turned so that he could lie her down flat on the bed, her body arching up to meet his, as though even that slight division caused by his movement was too much for their skin. He caressed her face, pausing for a moment to look down at the woman beneath him.  
  
What he felt for her he couldn't describe. How right this felt, how complete.  
  
Ana-Maria paused, her skin growing warmer, pushing back his wet hair, touching the droplets of water on his shoulders as though mesmerized. She looked into his face, and it was as though all the barriers had dropped between them. And the words she so wanted to say burst from her lips before she could stop them.  
  
"Forgive me?" She asked, and Jack grinned, showing her his golden teeth.  
  
"A million times over love, and without a shadow of regret, savvy?" He said and kissed her neck with all the greedy possessiveness he contained.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Jack Sparrow awoke later, alone in the tiny cot, the mattress beside him still warm where Ana-Maria had lain. The storm clouds had broken, but night was setting in, and the sky was as dismal as it had been all day. Jack reached out clumsily for a candle, and found the matches lying next to it. He lit the candle, looking around the tiny hut, his eyelids heavy with sleep, searching for Ana-Maria.  
  
But he was alone in the hut.  
  
He pulled on his trousers, which lay in a bunched pile by the bed. His boots he found wedged under the chair, his shirt draped over the edge of it, dry now. He stumbled to the door, pulling on his shirt with his spare hand, placing the candle down on the kitchen table as he went. The little flame flickered unwelcoming candles on the walls.  
  
He walked cautiously outside, strapping his sword to his waist, and pushing his tussled hair off his face. He squinted up at the sky, predicting it to be about six o'clock if not later. From where he stood, he could see the path down to the beach, and a view of the ocean beside it. But even it the dark, he could tell there was no one on the beach, no lone figure to make for.  
  
He took the other path, with coiled around the back of the house, out onto the cliffs. There was another small hut there, a place to keep firewood dry and such things, and a small vegetable patch. Jack touched the weatherboard wall, and saw the small figure sitting on the crest of the little hill, on the long grass about five metres away from the sudden drop of the cliff.  
  
She was watching the sunset.  
  
Jack did not attempt to silence his step, and called out softly.  
  
"Love?" He said questioningly. Ana-Maria turned her head around reluctantly, her eyes perhaps mesmerized by the maroon sunset. She gave him a brief smile, her hair coiled around her neck, her face unusually clear of anger or sorrow. For a moment, she just looked like a simple girl.  
  
So very fragile.  
  
Jack sat down on the long grass next to her, and pulled out his rum bottle. He offered it to her. She shook her head, gazing down at her hands.  
  
"I was born here." She said softly. She pointed at the wood hut behind her. "My ma raised me in that little hut. We had chickens running around under our feet all day, and it's a half an hour walk into the village, but she loved it here. She could see when da's ship came into port hours before it did, so that she could be there, waiting for him on the pier." Ana-Maria looked over at Jack. "This is home."  
  
Jack took off his hat, placing in on the grass, and looking around, as though inspecting it. Then he looked out over the ocean, and tilted his head.  
  
"I guess the ocean's the closest thing I've ever had to a home. That and the Pearl. Mexico's where I was born, but it was never home." He said with a sad shrug.  
  
"I've missed it." Ana-Maria whispered. "I've missed having a home that doesn't rock, a place with four walls and a chimney. I've missed this town. I," She paused, twisting her hands in her lap. "I haven't been back for fifteen years, came with my da three years before he died. Never, just never came back." Jack gave her a sly look.  
  
"Tell you the truth love, this was the last place I expected to find you." So many other places he'd searched first, so very many. But she didn't need to know that.  
  
"I guess that's why I'm here. I'm not sure I wanted to be found." She said roughly. She brushed her hands together, and gave Jack a measuring look. "I suppose you want an apology." She said finally. Jack shrugged, his face twisting into an expression of indifference.  
  
"What do I need one for, love? I already forgave you." He said quietly. Ana-Maria scoffed, but said nothing. They watched the sunset in silence for a moment.  
  
Jack was confused. Those moments in bed with her, he'd thought everything was all right. He'd run his hand down her soft, sinewy body, and breathed her breath. He'd fallen asleep with her wrapped around him, her hands caressing his chest.  
  
But now, here she was, running from him again.  
  
"If not an apology, what do you want from me Jack?" She asked quietly. Jack paused, mulling over the question, and then shrugged again.  
  
"A drink and a fuck would be nice." He said after a moment, nudging her, trying to draw her out of this mood. She smiled faintly.  
  
"Sorry Jack, I'm all out of them." She said, and ruffled his hair affectionately.  
  
"Then how about an explanation." He said quickly, and then closed his eyes, cursing himself for saying it, but knowing that this conversation had to happen. "Just tell straight out Ana, was it, was it just." He paused, and then shook his head, looking away.  
  
"Ambition?" She finished calmly. "Did I do all this," She waved her hands empathetically. "Because of ambition?" Jack exhaled, his hands falling to his jaw line, so that his hands framed his face. He looked at her, and nodded.  
  
"Was it?" Ana tilted her head, and kissed him on his full lips. Then she drew back, examining him. She shook her head.  
  
"No, of course it wasn't." She said ardently, watching Jack exhale and lick his lips.  
  
"Then it was me." He said simply. He looked out to the skyline, and grimaced. "You said it wasn't anything I'd done, so it must be me. Why else." He broke off again.  
  
"Would Julia and Barbossa and then me all betray you?" Ana-Maria said, and Jack nodded, wincing at each name. Ana-Maria reached out and clasped his hand in hers. She ran her long fingers over the top of his hand comfortingly.  
  
"It's not you love. Or its not your fault anyway," She took in a breath, searching for the right words. "Your just so dedicated, honey, and sometimes such focus, it scares others, or makes them jealous." Jack's eyes dulled and his face became even more glum so Ana-Maria hurried on. "Jack, how many times have men underestimated you, thought you were a simpleton?" Jack's eyes widened, and he looked at Ana-Maria out of the corner of his eye suspiciously.  
  
"Um, no one that I know off." He said.  
  
"Uh, yeah." Ana-Maria said quickly, moving right along. "Life is so easy for you, so simple and straight forward. It's just, I don't think there are many people like you in the world, and it can be hard for people like Julia and Barbossa and other pirates not to be, well, jealous of you, you know what you're doing, you're doing what you love. You have such," She broke of, searching for the word. She shook her head as the words would not come. "You remind everyone else of how much their life lacks focus, just by being as focused as you are."  
  
"And that's why you left me?" Jack said. Ana shook her head again.  
  
"Oh, Jack, it's not that simple. I'm trying to explain to you why those others did what they did, but." She paused, and breathed out. She pushed her hands through her hair. Jack waited. The sun sank even lower, streaking the sky and the ocean into one pink and orange blur.  
  
Jack could feel the wind blow through his cloths, the coolness of the night.  
  
"It's only love, only love Jack." Ana-Maria said softly, almost as though she were speaking to herself. Then she paused, looking out over the expanse of the cliffs, the rolling sea below, and the unimpressible sky. She laughed, and closed her eyes. "I thought, I thought that love was meant to make us strong. Meant to make me strong. But it didn't." She turned to look at Jack, a strand of hair across her eyes, hiding her full expression from view.  
  
She reached out to touch his cheek.  
  
"It made me so afraid." She said quietly. "I love you, Jack Sparrow. I've loved you since I saw you that first time, bleeding from Turner's blade in the hull of my fathers ship. I loved you when you saved me from being hanged all those years ago, when you kissed me on the day my father died, even when you left me wrapped in a sheet on the pier while you ran off with my ship. I loved that you gave me that ring, and that your eyes always softened when you saw me wearing that dagger. I love you." She licked her lips and tilted her head. "I've never loved anything as much as you, not the ocean, not my father, not treasure. I've found nothing in this world that can even compete with you. Do you know how scary that feeling is?"  
  
"Perhaps I do." He said gruffly. Ana-Maria watched him, but he would not meet her eyes.  
  
"Do you Jack? Do you really? Do you know what it feels like to be perpetually afraid that that one person, who is worth more to you then all the world, might just one day disappear?"  
  
"I know how afraid I was on that night you nearly died." He said, and Ana- Maria nodded, as though a good point had been made.  
  
"You know, I couldn't even look at the ocean, when I arrived here. It reminded me to much of you. It hurt to much." She murmured, listening to her words getting torn apart by the wind. Jack said nothing, waiting for the explanation that had been denied him so long. The wind picked up, the clouds growing heavy again overhead.  
  
"You've lost your trust in me." She stated with a quiet sorrow. Jack pursed his lips and shrugged.  
  
"I lost my trust a long time ago, its not something easy to keep hold of, love." He replied, also gazing at the expanse of sea so he wouldn't have to see the pain on her face. Ana-Maria swallowed, rubbing her thumb on the bristle on his cheek, looking at his calm, resolved face.  
  
"You were right. When you said this was about my back, about that night. I guess it made me realise so much, I just.. I don't know. That there were a lot of things I chose not to do, a lot of lives. It made me doubt." Jack dropped his head slightly and Ana-Maria stopped, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. "Not about us, I didn't doubt us Jack. You are the only man I could ever truly love with all my heart. I love you through and through, I've poured the whole of myself into you. And that was it, really. I've poured my whole life into you. Put all my eggs in one basket, as they say."  
  
"And now you're regretting it." He said, and nodded sadly. "So you just woke up one morning and decided that, well, lets see what other fish there are in the sea. And hey, there was Tyler, and you decided to go." He said animatedly, waving his arm around and taking a swig of rum.  
  
"Don't say these things, don't make me bring up Elizabeth and millions of other whores I've had to share you with. What was I to you Jack? Your companion? While you were waiting for the real love of your life?" She snapped angrily. Jack shook his head obstinately.  
  
"Ana, those are things we could have worked out, things we could." He started but she cut him off again. She pushed herself off the grass angrily, glowering down at him, her arms crossed across her thin chest.  
  
"You left me once Jack, when the opportunity and adventure called. Who says you can't do it again?"  
  
"I could never do that to you Ana, those were different circumstances. Its not the same as what you did." He said, and Ana scowled, looking away. Jack shook his head, and the silence grew between them. Finally Ana spun around, her lips set in a tight line.  
  
"What was I Jack, answer me that truly? Was I just convient? A fuck buddy for lonely nights a sea?" She glowered at him. Jack raised his hands defeatedly.  
  
"If you don't know what I feel about you by now," He said, and shook his head indifferently.  
  
"Maybe that's the point." Ana murmured ambigiously. She pulled out a cigerette, and lit it, shaking her head. "It's like your waiting for something better Jack. Someone better, who can be everything you'd ever desired."  
  
"Ana, what reason did I give you."  
  
"The whores, the drowning of your sorrows in drink, the nights you went silent on me, drew away from me." She said, listing them on her fingers. Why wasn't I enough? I felt like," She paused, dragging on her cigerette, her face twisting with emotion. "Sometimes I felt like you were just killing time with me. And anyway, why else would you never say.." She paused, realising how much she had given away. She turned to walk back to the house, appalled at herself. Jack court up with her quickly, spinning her around, his hands wrapped around each of her thing shoulders. He shook her slightly, before saying very slowly to her.  
  
"Ana, I do care about you, how can that not be clear to you? I said those words to someone long ago, and she betrayed me." He pushed a stray hair behind her ear. Ana, who had been refusing to meet his eye, focused on him, and said mutely.  
  
"Like I betrayed you," She bit her lower lip, shame tinging her voice.  
  
"No, because her heart was cold. You had to curse yourself, place an ocean between us, and you had to run all the way to Africa to stop your heart feeling." He said, and then broke off. Such words did not come easily, and both of them felt too exposed, too raw. Ana closed her eyes for a moment, and brought his hand to her breast, over her heart.  
  
"Can you feel it Jack? It beats when it should not. Here, you drove that blade though here," She said slowly, her eyes calm, as she used every inch of her strength to control her voice, to stop it wavering. Jack looked down at his hand, encircled in her darker one. Then he looked up at her face, and nodded.  
  
"Aye lass." He agreed.  
  
"Doesn't that make you afraid?" She whispered, her eyes scanning his face. Jack shook his head, bemused.  
  
"Afraid that you'll do the same? I suppose I'll just have to watch my back when you've got a blade in you hand and a fiery look in your eye." He joked, and Ana laughed despite herself. "Come on Ana," He said, tilting his head. She shook her head, a smile still playing across her features. He shook her gently. "What is it? I'll be serious. What is it that makes you afraid, that I can't protect you from?" He asked, peering at her, trying to joke her out of this mood.  
  
She shoved his chest playfully.  
  
"Like I need you to protect me, Jack Sparrow." She cursed. She pushed him again, and then turning her head away from him, sighed. "It just, that night, it made me fear. how easy it would be." She broke off again.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"For some other pirate to do it. Or some stupid land lover to get lucky, to drive a blade through your heart, or my heart, some stupid accident, and then would be over."  
  
"It's always been a dangerous business that you and I are in." Jack agreed. Ana closed her eyes.  
  
"I just felt like I needed, that I needed more time." The last word rang out, and Jack breathed in. For as these words burst out of Ana-Maria, he knew it was going to be all right. If she could tell him these things, it would be all right.  
  
"Time, love?" He said. He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You were afraid we were running out of time?" He half asked, half stated.  
  
"Yes," She breathed the word so thankfully; thankful he understood and would finally be able to share this burden with her. "I saw that one day, something would happen, that everything had to end, and it terrified me Jack. The thought of losing you, when you were all I had in the world that I even, that meant anything to me, it terrified me. And I thought, how could I bare it, how could I bare losing you further down the track, living each day in perpetual fear, knowing that one day, you would die or leave me for some other girl would could truly make you happy. I just, I couldn't bare to be with you, knowing how much it would hurt, to lose you. I just, I needed more time, I needed not to be vulnerable. I needed to be immortal, just for a moment, just for a second, so the fear could stop, so I could hold back time, just for a moment, so I could sort it all out in my head." She trailed off, and then covered her mouth, as though the words had burst out of her without her permission.  
  
"Love, you are my one and only, savvy?" Jack said, shaking her again softly, and then pulling her into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head, while she burrowed her face into his shoulder.  
  
"It just, it all went so wrong, so quickly, Jack. I'm so sorry," She mumbled into his shoulder.  
  
"It's alright, love." He slurred into her hair, his hands dropping down to just below her waist. He pulled a slightly guilty face, but kept his hands there. She looked up at him, bemused and bewildered. She shoved his chest, and then shoved him again. He held out his hands, surrendering, but she just shook her head. She starting beating his chest, her small fists hitting is soft skin angrily.  
  
"You stupid stupid man. How is it all right? How can you just forgive me? How, you, you, bloody pirate." She finished lamely, and then covered her face in her hands. How many times had they fought, how many times had she yelled and screamed at him, and said exactly that, before they had kissed and made up? It made her sick with longing, remembering how good and easy it had been then. How could he just say it could be like that again? As though the past six months hadn't hurt him, as though they meant nothing to him.  
  
Jack grabbed her wrists.  
  
"Love, I had to say this to Will, and perhaps you'll understand it less then he did but this is it: It doesn't matter to me what you did. Six months doesn't matter to me, you know that. Ten years didn't matter to me. It doesn't matter to us."  
  
"Jack, things can't be that simple," She started, but Jack silenced her.  
  
"Why?" He asked seriously. "Why can't they be? Understand, love, time doesn't matter to me." Her face darkened. She thought he was mocking her. "No, I'm being serious Ana. It doesn't matter. You matter. The pearl matters. Elizabeth and Will matter. The baby inside Elizabeth, it matters. The sea, and the weather, they're important. Nearly everything else matters as little as piss in the ocean. Not time, nor action, none of that can affect these things. That's what I've been trying to tell you all along." He said, and then he touched her cheek again.  
  
Ana looked away, and then back at him, as though she'd never seen him before. She laughed, and shook her head with complete and utter bemusement.  
  
"You're a very simple man, Jack Sparrow. None of it matters?" She asked him, smiling faintly with disbelief. He shook his head. "Not the fact that there will never be any children, no kiddy sparrows, no certain future, no insurance that everything will be alright?"  
  
"Nope. As long as I have what matters to me, I'll take what comes." He said simply, and kissed her.  
  
Later they stood, holding each other, sharing their warmth, battling the coolness of the night. Ana-Maria's head was tucked under his chin, and Jack watched the horizon broodingly.  
  
"It can't be the same." She said.  
  
"Why?" He asked, softly, bitterly.  
  
"I can't just come back and be your first mate. There are things you need to do Jack, trust that needs to be rebuilt."  
  
"I do trust you." He said obstinately.  
  
"Not me, with Will. He's important to you Jack, more then you let on. You need to make things right with Will and Elizabeth, and that child if it is yours."  
  
"That doesn't need to affect us." He whispered into her hair, pressing his lips against her head.  
  
"I think I need to try to trust myself alone in the world again Jack. To try it out on my own two feet. I've been a pirate all my life, because it was the only thing I knew how to be. Even when I was the thief the Black Whore, I was still a pirate at heart. But without you, when you weren't there being a pirate with me, it meant nothing to me. Jewels and treasure, they never had a hold on me Jack. I need to find something else, other then you, which ties me to the world."  
  
"So you're going to go away from me." He said, and his hand tightened on her waist.  
  
"Yes. Maybe for just a little while, maybe for a few years. But I love you Jack and I'll come back to you." She looked up so that she could see the pain on his face. She touched his cheek, where the path of a tear had left a small wet trail. "What is time, to us Jack? Like you said, it's inconsequential." She whispered, and kissed him. But those words sounded hollow. For years apart sounded dreadful, and both of them shivered. She kissed his forehead, touching his caked dreadlocks, and the smudge of eyeliner beneath his eyes. "I'll come back to you, just not yet."  
  
Jack couldn't say anything. He was resolved. It didn't hurt him that she said these things, because he refused to accept them. It didn't matter that she was afraid, because he believed in his heart of hearts he could protect her from anything, even himself. And he bluntly would not hear that she wanted to leave him.  
  
Because he knew he would find a way to keep them together. Somehow, though he didn't know exactly how, he would convince her to stay with him.  
  
But that was tomorrow's battle, another day, and for the moment, he was just content to hold her.  
  
Ana-Maria touched his cheek, and his signature beard, and she started to sing. "The breeze was fresh, the ship was in stays, Each breaker hush'd, the shore a haze, When Jack, no more on duty call'd, his true love's tokens over haul'd; The broken gold, the braided hair," Ana-Maria tugged his braids, and he closed his eyes.  
  
"The tender motto, writ so fair, Upon his 'bacco box he views, Upon his 'bacco box he views, If you loves I as I love you...." She coiled her arms around his neck, and whispered the last line to him, feeling as though her heart was breaking for causing him so much pain. Let us keep this love, she thought to herself, let me come back to him soon, happy and carefree so I can be the woman he truly needs. Let me be free to truly love him. "No pair so happy as we two."  
  
Jack stroked her cheeks and hooked his arm through hers. The two turned together, Ana-Maria resting her head on his shoulder, and they made their own, quiet way back to the house.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Two weeks later, in a bar on the African coast, Jack sat half slumped, half upright in his chair, with over two bottles of rum in him. Ana-Maria giggled to herself, and clinked her shot of rum with his.  
  
"To ushh." She said. Jack raised a hand, got up, and then sat back down rather shocked after having gotten up to fast. He leant forward secretively, beckoning Ana-Maria close.  
  
"Hows about, you and me," He pointed at himself and then at her. Ana- Maria thinned her eyes, concentrating and following the movements of his lips with utmost focus. Jack paused, raising one hand above his head, and then slamming it down on the tabletop. "How's about you and me plays a game of cards, and we'll bet on it." He said triumphantly.  
  
"But we only have five dollars between us." Ana-Maria said, leaning back in her chair and laughing. Jack looked around, paranoid.  
  
"Shh, love. Don't tell the bartender that." Jack gave the bartender a wary half smile, half grimace and then focused on Ana-Maria again. "Nah, nah, different type of wager." He touched his temple conspiringly. "If I win, you'se come back to the Pearl with me, Captain Jack Sparrow, and be my first mate and all that that entails." He winked at her, which looked surprisingly hard for a man as intoxicated as he was. Ana-Mari pushed her hair of her face, and grinned thoughtfully.  
  
"And if I win, monsieur Captain Sparrow?" She giggled, putting on a terrible French accent. Jack leant forward, grinning characteristically, his golden teeth flashing, his face oddly beautiful in the light of the candles. Ana-Maria softened, smiling at him.  
  
"If you win, my saucy black wench," Jack said suavely. "I'll give you this trinket which is very dear to me," He held up the ring that he'd given her all those months ago, still on the chain around his neck. He lowered his eyebrows, his mouth curling up suggestively "And you get to take me back up to our room and have you devilish way with me." He said, and held out his hand. Ana-Maria chuckled to herself.  
  
"My devilish way?" She repeated, biting her lip. "How come you seem to come off very well either way?" She said, giving him a doubtful look.  
  
Jack scratched his ear, and grinned sheepishly. Then he pointed at her, his elbow nearly slipping of the table in his drunken state.  
  
"You've forgotten one very important thing, lovey." He said, leaning across the table, resting his elbows comfortably on it, and taking her face in his hands. He kissed her nose affectionately. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, the luckiest," He kissed her lips. "Man ever to live." He kissed her again, for longer this time, and then leant back into his chair. He held out his hand, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
Suddenly, he looked very very, deceptively sober.  
  
"Do we have a deal love?" He asked, grinning.  
  
Ana-Maria smiled, and slipped her hand into to him.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The end.  
  
The end, as much as the sun setting on the sea is the end, an end of one day, one moment, one adventure, but there is no end, not truly. Not for them, and not for us.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * 


	32. Prologue and thanks

Author note: Well it's over, this little tale, and thank you everyone who stuck with me to the end. Wow, this ending took so much time to write, I wanted it to be so perfect, so right. I hope it was. But like everything, it took another form then I had imaged. Lol, sometimes the stories just seem to get away from me and write themselves. The story seemed to take it's own direction, but I included all that I wanted in it, the scenes that flashed through my head before I started on this adventure: Jack slinking out of Elizabeth's bed under Will's angry eye, Jack and Ana in the ports of Singapore, Jack kissing Ana as a skeleton, and all those little phrases that seemed so important to incorporate in the story.  
  
This story was important to me, and I loved writing it. It really enmeshed me in the complications of their relationship, or any relationship, and I hope I was able to develop the characters in new directions that I wasn't able to in The Making of Jack Sparrow, because that was a flash back-story.  
  
I hope it had a sense of magic to it, something I find missing so much from the world.  
  
I won't be writing anything else for a little while, I'm going away for the rest of the summer, leaving tomorrow actually and I don't know if I'll be able to write or use the internet. ( But hopefully I'll get some new ideas and write feverishly when I get back about my favourite couple. In case I don't, and my little time line of Jack and Ana does not get finished let me say this, for this is what I saw in the future:  
  
Prologue  
  
Ana would become Captain, possibly of the Left Hand, for a period, and Jack and her would continue a disconnected relationship. They would also form a strong alliance between the two ships, and one other ship captained by a pair of identical twins, and they would virtually have control of the entire Caribbean. Will would become Jack's first mate, and would be a quieter, more troubled version of the Will in the movie. Elizabeth's child would be Jacks, and then she would miscarriage again, leaving her unable to have children.  
  
Eventually, Jack would find the strength to say those words to Ana, and she would join him on the Pearl, and they would have adventures that far exceeded their battle with Barbossa. Will would give up the life of piracy after the destruction of a woman who reminded him too much of Elizabeth. The pair would return home to Port Royal, a little older and a little wiser, and with Jack's son.  
  
This would then lead into my story the Resting Place, which is the end of my dear Jack Sparrow. Ana-Maria after that would slip out of the stories and history, and perhaps from life all together.  
  
Thank you's:  
  
Jackfan2: My bestest awesomeous coolest funniest yanky reviewer THANK YOU SO MUCH! You've keep me going, feeding my little writer ego, and arg! You're awesome, I truly couldn't have done it without your words of encouragement, and I hope I finished it happy enough for you. Happy endings are what ever afters are all about right? Anyway, keep up the writing our I WILL KILL YOU, because though I might not be writing much for the next month, I WILL BE WATCHING out for your story and I expect it to be updated often or I will flame you with my handy flame torch (pats her flame torch with is named Jack), okay? Thank you again and again and again and (takes a breathe) and again and again.  
  
ELIZABETH SWAN/TURNER : Is the mob off my back now? Lol, thank you also for your ideas, and your attention to detail, I didn't know if anyone else noticed my little continuations but you did, and it made me all warm and fuzzy inside. And I didn't kill off Will, I gave him a very happy ending (nods and smiles sheepishly).  
  
Mallory: Muahaha, I've finished it now, and my first thought was, well, since I've been so good, maybe I should have some CHEESECAKE! Every time I have any or anyone talks about any now, I get this stupid grin on my face, people must think I'm very strange. Lol, endings are always the hardest parts, but thank you for reviewing and sticking with me till it. Jack and Ana forever.  
  
Daftangel: I rock your socks? Hehehehe, for some reason that is so amusing! Of course I gave it a real ending, and I hope it clears everything up, no clifthangers right?!  
  
Thank you everyone else, who I haven't mentioned (it's Christmas eve, I have to run and buy a turkey with my dad, so lol, I don't have anymore time to write), and I hope I've managed to add something to the Jack and Ana relationship. Thank you all who read then bumbling author note,  
  
This is me, signing out, hopefully only temporarily Tinkabelle21 


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